I am Titanium
by Dylan Fox
Summary: After receiving back pains, Beca Mitchell discovers that she has cancer. With help from best friend, Amy and therapist, Chloe, she begins to come to terms with her diagnosis. But will she be able to keep up her happy facade? [Based on 50/50][AU][Eventual BeChloe]
1. Back Pains and Diagnosis

**Hey, guyz! Here's a new story for ya. I know I should really be working on that RWBY fic - and I am, trust me. It's just taking a little longer than expected. Mainly because of this story. Think I might make this my priority...**

 **Anyway, this is a fic I've been working on for a few months now. If you've seen the movie 50/50, you'll know how this story will play out. If you haven't, give it watch - it's a great film. Some things are a bit different to the movie, though, so it could fit the characters and shite.**

 **Also, it's BeChloe [kinda]. Enjoy~**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or movies used.** _ **Pitch Perfect**_ **is property of Universal Pictures, and _50/50_ is property of Summit Entertainment.**

* * *

It was a cold morning in the state of Georgia. The birds were twittering their happy melody, the breeze was light and the water in the canal was gentle. It was the perfect morning for a jog, so that's what Beca decided to do. She was just thankful that there weren't many people around at this time of day. Beca wasn't what you would consider a 'people person'. Far from it, in fact. She would go to any lengths possible to interact with as few people as possible.

Jogging along the canal's edge, letting the wind brush through her chestnut hair, Beca skipped the current song on her iPod, a huge grin splitting her face as the opening to a certain jam played through her headphones. Turning up the volume full blast, she softly sang along.

 _You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say.  
_ _I'm talking loud, not saying much._

Beca began to jog faster to the beat, soon reaching the waking streets of her hometown, eventually coming to stop at a pedestrian crossing; it changed to a red hand just as she reached it, much to Beca's dismay – why does this always happen to her? But she didn't let her foul mood deter her favourite song, though.

She jogged on the spot, patiently waiting for the green man to make his appearance. Looking around, she could see that there was no traffic passing her, the majority of people probably still in their homes, enjoying their breakfast. However, the good citizen that Beca claimed to be, she stayed put, not taking any chances.

She softly hummed along as the next song kicked in [another of her favourites, of course], just as a fellow morning jogger – or runner, in this case – pelted past her and across to the other side, his long legs taking him places [seriously, this guy could give Usain Bolt a run for his money]. Beca couldn't help but scoff to herself at how reckless he was, risking his life like that. But a quick look to the left, and to the right, she realised it didn't matter at all – there were still no vehicles. Not that Beca cared. She stayed jogging in place; she's no idiot.

As soon as the signal to go showed up, Beca continued her jog. She suddenly got a sharp pain in the small of her back. It didn't stop her, however – she held at the spot and massaged it, hoping it would ease the ache. Beca didn't stop her jog until she reached her house.

Deciding that she was in desperate need of a shower, she stripped down and stepped over the edge of the bathtub, being careful not to slip. Letting the hot water cascade over her naked form, she breathed a content sigh, washing her body with honeysuckle and orange peel scented shower gel. Although, when it came time to wash her hair, she discovered that she had ran out of shampoo.

Squeezing and shaking the bottle as much as she could, she eventually gave up when not a single dollop landed in her palm.

"Son of a bitch," Beca uttered, sighing in exasperation as she gazed up at her boyfriend's share of shower products. Scrunching her mouth to the side, she picked up what she hoped was shampoo, flipped open the cap and brought it to her nose. Yep, smelled like Jesse, alright. She bobbed her head to the side slightly and raised her eyebrows a fraction, as if to say 'I suppose this could work'. So, Beca wasted no time in splatting a generous amount of the shampoo into her hand and got to work.

* * *

Beca was now clean, dry, dressed and ready for whatever the day would throw at her. Tightening her watch into place, with much difficulty, she asked, "so, are you staying over tonight?" to her boyfriend, Jesse, who was in the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

"I'm not sure," Jesse said honestly, standing a fair distance from Beca as she looked in the mirror. "There are a few gallery openings I want to go to." Jesse likes art, always has and probably always will. If one were to just look at him and guess his profession from first glance, they'd maybe say something like a musician, what with his boyish good-looks and charming smile, wooing women with a guitar melody and gentle singing voice. Truth be told, Jesse is a self-employed artist, who spends his days painting abstract on white canvases and, on occasion, having them displayed in galleries across the city. Beca turned to look at him, almost disappointed. "I'm kinda nervous about this show," Jesse breathed. "I still have two more paintings to do." He shoved the toothbrush back into his mouth and moved it about vigorously, nearly making it impossible to hear what he was saying. "I mean, everything I have so far is garbage. I just need to..." Jesse trailed off, eyes squinting and in search for something within the bedroom. "Where's my stuff?" he asked, utterly confused.

Beca paused packing her bag for her day of work. "It's in your drawer," she said to her boyfriend, almost guiltily.

"Oh, so I have a drawer?" Jesse cocked an amused eyebrow.

"Yeah, I just," Beca stumbled over her words, "I figured that I'd put some of your stuff in–" Words weren't Beca's strongest attribute. "There was nothing in the drawer before," she finally managed a full sentence. "Well, there were a couple of things, but I just..." Beca let out a long breath in hope to get her speech under control. "I moved them to a different drawer – just made sense that way," she finished.

Jesse chuckled at his flustered girlfriend. "Who knew Beca Mitchell could be so..." he paused, inching closer to the petit brunette, "domestic." He shot her a wink and jumped slightly as a loud honking sounded from outside.

"I gotta go, but good luck with your paintings," Beca said, glancing out the window to see her best friend – Amy – smacking her hand repeatedly against the horn with a bored expression. Beca leaned in to give Jesse a peck on the lips, but had to quickly pull away, as certain leakage was occurring.

"I still have a lot of toothpaste in my mouth right now," Jesse managed through a mouth full of saliva and tooth cleanser. "But have a great day." Beca shot him a smile before nodding and Jesse kissed her cheek as best he could. "Bye."

Beca closed the door behind her as she left the house, quickly making her way to her best friend's car waiting outside. Opening the passenger door, she slid into the seat.

"Waddup, Bee?" Amy said in her strong Sydney accent.

"Hey, Amy, sorry I'm late," Beca replied, making sure her seatbelt was secure.

"What's that smell?" Amy asked, sniffing the air around her. "What is that?"

"What?" Beca asked, genuinely confused.

Amy grimaced. "Why do you smell like a thirteen-year-old boy trying to impress his English teacher with massive jugs?" she asked seriously.

"That is oddly specific," Beca pointed out. Shrugging, Amy moved in closer and inhaled deeply once her nose was against Beca's hair. "Stop that." Beca swatted her away, stifling a laugh. "I ran out of shampoo, so I had to use Jesse's." Once more, Amy sniffed Beca's hair, Beca rolling her eyes.

"You smell like you fucked a boyband," Amy deadpanned.

"Are we gonna go?" Beca asked, exasperated.

Amy turned her head to look at her best friend, puckering her lips dramatically. "Little BecBec don't wanna be late?" she joked.

"I'm already two minutes late, so."

"You're already two minutes late," Amy repeated.

"I literally just said that." Beca closed her eyes, trying to keep her cool.

"If you really cared about that, you should probably learn how to drive," informed Amy, earning a simple nod from the brunette in her passenger seat. "You know what's really gonna make us late?"

Beca smacked the back of her head on the headrest. "What?" she sighed, and Amy started the car.

"When I stop off at Taco Bell," Amy said, her car roaring to life.

"No," Beca whined, "we are not stopping for a burrito."

Amy pulled out of the driveway, and began heading down the street. "How about a quesadilla, then?"

"Dude."

* * *

Taco Bell was surprisingly quiet this morning. The queue wasn't overly long like it usually is, and you could actually hear the music playing for once. It smelled the same, though.

"Your back still hurts?" Amy asked with mild concern as she watched Beca double over with her hands pressed to the small of her back.

"Yeah," Beca confirmed, "I'm going back to the doctor today."

"That's not right," Amy said, earning a hum of agreement from her best friend as she stood up straight. "You been fucking in weird positions?"

Beca scoffed. "Of course that's where your mind would go."

"I tried froggy style once with one of my boyfriends," Amy explained, "and it fucked up my back."

"I'm not even going to ask what that is," Beca sighed.

"It's like doggy style, but you're up higher," Amy informed. "Here, let me demonstrate." Amy pulled Beca in front of her and attempted to bend her over, but she was having none of it.

Beca repeatedly slapped her friend's arm to get her to release her. Eventually, she did. "Dude, no." Beca pointed a finger at Amy, as if she was scolding a child. "Jesse and I haven't done it in like, three weeks anyway," she added quietly, avoiding Amy's judging gaze.

"You haven't had sex in three weeks?" Amy repeated incredulously, and a little too loudly, drawing the attention of fellow Taco Bell customers.

Beca rolled her eyes. "Well, he had a yeast infection," she tried to reason, "and then I got my period after it cleared up, which is finished now." Beca sighed once more.

"You can't fuck with a yeast infection?" Amy interrupted, because clearly that's the part to focus on. "And you can totally fuck on a period."

"Dude, that's gross." Beca grimaced at the mere thought of having sex while menstruating.

"I've done it." Amy shrugged, acting as if it was a normal thing.

"Of course you have," Beca grumbled under her breath.

They stayed in silence for a moment, Amy deep in thought. "He's being going down on you though, right?" she finally asked.

"Dude!" Beca exclaimed, really wanting this conversation to be over. "He doesn't like doing that," she uttered.

"No fucking shit, he doesn't like it," Amy said, beginning to get exasperated. "Who likes putting pussies in their mouths? It's messy down there, Bec."

"Shut up for like, five seconds?" Beca suggested, noticing people looking sceptically at them.

"I will not shut up, Rebecca Mitchell." Amy gently whacked her on the arm.

"Please don't call me that," Beca groaned, despising her full name, moving forward in the line.

"He stays at your house all the time, right?" Amy asked, receiving a nod from Beca. "He leaves his shit everywhere, which you clean up, because you're a nice person." Amy poked her in the chest a little too hard. "The least he could do is eat you out!" She said the last part way too loudly, just as they reached the counter.

Beca just smiled awkwardly at the cashier, wishing to just crawl under a rock and die.

"You put up with a lot of shit when you're dating a hot guy," Amy commented as she and Beca exited Taco Bell. "That's why I didn't date any hot guys in high school," she added matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, that's the reason," Beca said, distracted; Amy nodded smugly. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not in high school anymore." She took a sip of her Pepsi before continuing. "The relationship I have with Jesse is about more than sex."

Amy lifted a single eyebrow. "What is it about, Beca?" she asked condescendingly.

"It's about each other," Beca said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We care about each other, and we actually talk." She shrugged, crossing the street. "It's great," she furthered her point.

"You know what would be greater?" Amy spoke, Beca looking at her with a raised brow, silently asking her to carry on. "If you could do that, and then bang the hell out of each other afterwards." She took a huge bite of her grilled stuff burrito.

"Ideally, yes, that would be fantastic." Beca was beginning to get agitated now. "Unfortunately, the real world isn't that generous. Please hurry up," she added as an afterthought, climbing the steps to the radio station, two at a time.

"Your mom didn't wait for you, so why should I?" Amy snarked, following Beca up the steps.

* * *

Amy walked into the radio station like she owned it, greeting, waving and winking at every person she walked past. Beca, on the other hand, kept her head low, not wanting to interact with her co-workers at such an early hour. Instead, she bit her fingernails discreetly. Not too discreetly, however, since Amy spoke up about it.

"That's so disgusting," she said, Beca immediately replacing her hand back into her pocket. "You shouldn't do that."

Old habits die hard, or so they say.

It wasn't long before they ran into their boss.

"Amy, Reggie," he said as he approached them, removing his sunglasses from his face. "Where have you been?" He folded his arms across his chest and regarded Beca.

"I'm sorry, Amy made us stop at Taco Bell," Beca justified, raising a bag which contained her meal. Her boss took the bag, peeked inside, and placed it under his arm; Amy stifled a laugh.

"Don't be late again," was all he said.

However, before he could leave, Beca spoke up again. "I, um, actually wanted to talk to you about the a-cappella piece," she said rather timidly, while Amy finished her third burrito of the morning and her boss rolled her eyes. "It's coming along great – I've got all the research and interviews done," Beca reassured, her boss nodding and glancing at his watch, "but the narration is a bit of a problem. Whoever did it kept going off topic and saying some incredibly sexist things about the all-female groups." Beca made a few frantic hand gestures, Amy nodding agreement, even though she wasn't listening to their exchange at all. "I've cut it down to seven minutes, and that's clearly not enough; I need–" she was cut off as a phone started ringing.

"Yeah, great," the Boss said down to the mobile in his hand. "Just do whatever you gotta do. I'm counting on you, Reggie!" he called as he brought his phone to his ear and walked off.

Beca sighed. "How come he remembers your name?" she asked, frustrated, to her best friend who was currently munching on a taco.

"It isn't exactly hard for my sexy, fat arse to stand out," Amy commented with a full mouth, shaking her rear end slightly. "You're like, down here," Amy motioned her hand just below her belly button, "with those guys who do shit about volcanoes and the Royal Baby." She then lifted her hand high above her head. "And I'm up here, talking about the things that people actually give a shit about."

"People care about a-cappella," Beca defended, taking a seat at her desk.

"Keep telling yourself that, Bee," Amy said, sitting at her own workspace.

* * *

Beca breathed a heavy sigh at the computer in front of her. No matter what she did, she just wasn't able to get the perfect configuration for her a-cappella podcast. It didn't help that she had a sexist prick talking through her headphone, or the fact that Amy was talking on the phone obnoxiously loud to someone in Wales.

"You sound like a robot," Amy yelled down the receiver. "Do I sound like a robot?"

Having enough of this bullshit, Beca pushed her headphones onto her shoulders. "Amy, shut the fuck up, I'm trying to–" But, Amy was ignoring her, continuing her conversation with the Welsh – or was it Wale-ish? – person.

"I know, it's unbelievable, right?" Amy laughed. "I don't know what it is either."

"It's unbelievable!" Beca imitated in a god-awful Australian accent. "I don't what it is either. I'm a fucking cunt, I'm the queen of the fucking world, lick my vag." She shoved her headphones back on with a grunt before continuing to butcher the Australian dialect. "My friend Beca hasn't had her vag licked in six fucking months." She then went on to mock Amy's laugh, which she's strangely proud to admit that she had perfected.

* * *

After work that day was Beca's doctor's appointment. Needless to say, she was shitting herself. Hospitals kinda freaked her out, and so they should. Nothing good ever comes from visiting a prison full of sick people, riddled with diseases and on their death beds. At least she managed to convince Amy not to come with her.

She was waiting in her doctor's office, nibbling her nails and reading a pamphlet about incontinence. Why? She didn't know, and she didn't want to know. Her heart was thumping against her ribs – why the shit was she so nervous?

The door opening made her jump in her skin. She turned around as she saw Doctor Whittaker walk in. Beca needlessly stood up before immediately feeling stupid and sitting back down. Without saying a word, the doctor made his way around Beca to perch at his desk and peruse a folder. Sitting in silence, Beca pursed her lips and glanced around the room, waiting for the doctor to speak.

It felt like an eternity before he spoke – into a voice recorder, that is. "Patient has been complaining of back pain and night sweats," he said monotonously. "Blood tests and urine analysis are normal." Beca breathed a small sigh of relief. "MRI suggests a massive intradural malignant schwannoma neurofibrosacroma extending in the psoas muscle," the doctor said in a rush, getting quieter as he went along. Beca bit in the inside of her cheek, having no idea what the hell he was talking about. She did catch the last bit, however. "The growth extends from L2 to L5. Will send patient for biopsy to confirm."

Amongst the doctor's scientific ramblings, Beca silently raised her hand, in hope she was being polite. Thankfully, the doctor saw the raised hand and questionable look on the short brunette's face.

He turned off the recorder and said, "yes, question?"

"Sorry, I just," Beca stammered, "I didn't catch any of that, not really." She put on a smile, trying to be as courteous as she knew how. "Is there something wrong with me?" she finally asked.

"Yes," the doctor deadpanned, and Beca's face dropped. "If you look here on your MRI," Doctor Whittaker gestured to a screen to his left, pointing to a specific area with his pen, "you can see this cephalopod-like object that's spreading down your spinal column." Beca opened and closed her mouth, still not getting a single word this man was saying. "This is a massive schwannoma neurofibrosacroma."

"Right," Beca got out. "And what does that mean?"

What Beca received as an answer was the last thing she expected to hear.

"It's a malignant tumour," the doctor told her.

"A tumour?" Beca said slowly.

"Yes."

"Me?" she asked again, needing further clarification.

"Yes."

Beca breathed out a short laugh. "Sorry, that doesn't make any sense," she said. "There must be a mistake – I don't smoke, I don't drink, I –"

"Your case is actually quite fascinating," Doctor Whittaker interrupted, ignoring Beca's frustration. "Your cancer is result of an incredibly rare gene mutation."

That's when Beca fell quiet. After the word 'cancer', she tuned him out. She stared ahead, her vision blurring and she could hear a high-pitched ringing in her ear, along with that single, fearful word.

Cancer.

She eventually came around to the doctor's droning voice.

"Given the placement and size of your particular tumour," Beca rose from her seat, still in a slight daze, "the wisest course of action is to see if we can possibly reduce this thing down to a more manageable size." Beca wandered over to window and gazed down at the street below. All those happy, carefree people, living their lives as best they can. Living in general. "Then we can consider surgery." Doctor Whittaker took a breath, before heading onto the important stuff. "Now, chemotherapy can often result in fertility issues."

"I'm going to be okay, right?" Beca asked longingly, still trying to wrap her head around this bombshell.

The doctor was quiet for a moment before saying, with some remorse for once, "if you need someone to talk to, we have an excellent staff here at the hospital of social workers and psychologists."

Once again, Beca tuned him out as he went on to explain the side effects of chemotherapy. Instead, she just stared out the window.

You hear about this stuff from gossiping neighbours and on TV, but you never think it'll happen to you until it does.

* * *

 **Woo! First chapter - yay! Let me know what you guys think, and if you want me to continue it. Chloe will most likely enter the next chapter anway.**

 **Here's a question for you, though - is Taco Bell any good? Living in England, this stuff is in short supply.**

 **Catcha later and have a great day.  
Dilly xx**


	2. Announcement and Therapy

**Yay, second chapter! I got this up way earlier than I expected to [usually this shit takes me months]. Two weeks isn't bad, huh?**

 **Before you read this, there's a petition floating around the interwebs for Universal to release the BeChloe kiss for the public's viewing pleasure. It's at ChangeDOTorg. Give it a sign? I have every confidence we're gonna reach the goal because our fandom is so amazingly incredible, and I'm proud to be a part of it. You guys rock!**

 **On another note, we get to see Chloe in this chapter - yay! Enjoy, you beautiful people.**

* * *

The next few days, Beca couldn't think about anything else. It still didn't fully hit her yet, but that didn't mean she wasn't aware of it. She had been down ever since she got her diagnosis, not that any would fault her for it – if they knew, that is. That's right, Beca hadn't told anyone about her tumour. She was too afraid. She knew she shouldn't be – that is was stupid to be – but there was still the nagging at the back of her head saying 'what if they walk out on me?'. In fact, she hadn't even cracked a smile, it was getting to her so bad.

After finally realising that this tumour wasn't going to just pack its bags and move to Canada, Beca decided to do a quick Google search on her specific cancer; see if it'll relieve some very much unwanted stress. Everyone at the radio station was packing up for the day and heading home, but Beca stayed in her seat, staring at the screen in front of her.

Apparently, the only way to get treated is through chemotherapy and surgical removing of the tumour [but I suppose you've already guessed that]. Risks of surgery included, amputation of limbs, paralysis or death, none of which sounding particularly pleasing to Beca.

However, she did discover that she had a fifty-percent survival rate! That was something; right?

The bus ride home wasn't much help. She would've called Amy to give her a lift, but she hadn't really spoken to the Aussie much since getting her diagnosis. Why? She didn't know. Bottling things up is kinda what Beca does best. Being open about things gave her a sense of vulnerability, a feeling she wasn't really keen on. Not bothering to put her headphones on, Beca simply watched the world whiz past, pondering upon what she had found out and nibbling at her fingernails. Sighing, she rubbed at her eye, those restless nights finally catching up to her.

* * *

That night, Beca had finally convinced herself to tell Jesse the heart-shattering news. Thankfully, she managed to get it out without breaking down into a hysterical mess of snot and tears.

"Oh, Beca," Jesse said softly, but before he could get anything else out, Beca cut him off.

"Look, Jess," she said, looking her boyfriend dead in the eye, "I'm not expecting you to take all this on." She decided to make light of things by saying, "it's not like we're married or anything." Beca huffed a small laugh to herself before breathing a sigh. "If you wanna bail, then go ahead. I won't blame you." Jesse looked at her with a perplexed expression. "I mean, not that I want you to," Beca rushed out.

Jesse held Beca's face between his large hands. "I'm not going to bail on you, Beca." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm here for you, okay?"

It took Beca a while to answer. Jesse was taking this surprisingly well. She was sure that her boyfriend would walk out there and then, claiming he couldn't take care of cancer patient. But he was being a caring, understanding person – this was the man she fell in love with.

"Thank you," Beca finally said as Jesse moved in to embrace her.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "I promise." Beca was sure she heard Jesse's voice crack.

* * *

The next day, Beca decided to tell the next most important person in her life – Amy. She didn't take it was well as Jesse.

"I'm gonna throw up," was the first thing that came out of her mouth.

"Don't throw up, you're gonna be fine," Beca reassured, tapping her friend on the shoulder.

"Nope, I'm gonna projectile," Amy said, closing her eyes and turning away from Beca, not wanting her to get vomit to the face.

Beca rolled her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic." She grabbed Amy by the shoulders and forced her to face her. "Open your eyes and look at me." Just like that, Amy obeyed her short friend. Beca breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, Amy mimicking her. Repeating the action a few times, Beca asked, "you okay?" receiving a single nod in response.

"What kind of cancer is it?" Amy asked.

"Just some rare kind," Beca replied, surprisingly calm.

"Yeah, but what's it called?"

"Schwannoma…" Beca began, but quickly cutting herself off. "Shit, I knew this." She shut her eyes tight, trying with all her might to remember the name of this goddamn death sentence.

"What the fuck is Schwannoma?" Amy asked when Beca didn't say anything.

"That basically means 'tumour'."

Amy pinched the bridge of her nose, her emotions clearly getting the better of her. "Do you have a picture of it?" she said once she got herself under control.

"Why the fuck would I carry around a picture of the thing that is killing me?" Beca questioned incredulously.

"It's common practice to get pictures of shit." Amy's anger was rising now. "Pregnant women do it."

"I'm not pregnant!" Beca yelled. "And it doesn't even look like anything." She brought her thumb and forefinger in front of her, slightly apart. "It's just a little lump," she informed her best friend.

Amy pursed her lips in thought. "Are you gonna be okay?" she asked, her concern growing for the petit brunette. "Are the odds in your favour?"

"I don't know," Beca whined, really not wanting to be a part of this conversation anymore. Why was Jesse easier to tell than Amy? "I looked it up, and it said 50/50, but that's just shit on the internet, so."

Breathing a relieved sigh, Amy chuckled lightly. "That's not so bad," she said with a grin. "Better than I thought, at least." She rubbed Beca's shoulder, a genuine, heartfelt smile gracing her lips. "You're gonna be fine, Becs." Beca didn't return the smile. She couldn't. "I mean you're young – young people beat cancer all the time." Amy huffed a laugh. "That fucker Lance Armstrong keeps getting it."

"Yep," Beca monotoned, nodding her head.

"That guy from _Dexter_." Amy was trying her best to reassure her, Beca knew that, but it wasn't really helping. "He's okay. Patrick Swayze, he's fine."

Beca furrowed her brow at that last one. "You know Patrick Swayze's dead, right?" That momentarily shocked Amy, her face looking like slapped arse.

"Really?" she finally asked. Beca bobbed her head; Amy bit her lip. "I actually didn't know that, sorry, Beca." The brunette was about to speak up, but Amy had other ideas. "But look on the bright side," she said, rather cheerfully, Beca lifting a brow in question. " _You_ ," Amy poked Beca in the chest, "are gonna be fine." The two were silent for a while before Amy's growing concern forced her speak up again. "What did your parents say? Did Sheila freak out?"

Beca shook her head. "Yeah, I'm not–" she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, "I'm not gonna tell her."

"What do mean you're not gonna tell her?" Amy asked incredulously. "She's your stepmum, Bec, she'll probably deal with it better than most people. Your dad has Alzheimer's for fuck's sake; she's used to this shit."

"But you know her," Beca said, drawing Amy's rant to a close. "She'll lose her fucking shit if she finds out."

"You _have_ to tell her," Amy stated sternly.

"I will, just… locate your chill, okay?" Beca reassured.

Amy sighed once more. "You're gonna be fine," she muttered for the millionth time that morning. "50/50, I mean, if you were a casino game, you'd have the best odds." Amy tapped Beca's forearm a few times, sounding oddly pleased with her deduction. Beca let the smallest of smiles grace her lips.

"You want coffee?" Beca politely asked as they began to head into the radio station.

"I'm awake now."

* * *

Don't get her wrong, Beca had always loved her parents. She had a pretty decent childhood. Well, until her mom left when Beca was in the middle of high school, and then her dad married some harlot. Beca had never been too open with people, especially when those people replace other people, the people she cared about. To Beca, Sheila tried too hard to be a good mom to her, and for that, Beca resented her.

But tonight, she had to suck up that resentment and put on a brave face. For tonight, Beca had invited her parents over for dinner.

"Hi, Sheila." Beca gave her stepmother a small wave as she got out of the car.

"Rebecca, sweetheart!" Sheila cooed, pulling the hobbit in for a tight embrace, completely catching Beca off guard; she discretely rolled her eyes at the use of her full name – Sheila had always called her that and it got on Beca's tits. The older woman released her when she heard the car door slam shut, as her husband stepped out.

Beca put on a brave smile as her dad walked up to her and held out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Benjamin," the man said. Beca uttered her greeting and took her father's hand in her own, giving it a shake.

"This is Rebecca," Sheila informed loudly to Benjamin, "your daughter, remember?" The man's face dropped as he looked Beca up and down as she smiled timidly at him – how could he forget his own beautiful daughter?

His inner musing were cut short as he heard someone calling his name from the steps of the house. Turning his head, he saw a tall man smiling and waving at him. Smiling back, Benjamin happily made his way over to him, despite not having any recollection of who he was.

"So what's the big news?" Sheila nudged Beca's shoulder with her own as they made their way towards the house. Then she gasped. "Are you pregnant?"

"What?" Beca glanced at her stepmom sceptically. "No, geez," she grumbled, refraining to roll her eyes. "I'll tell you, okay?"

Sheila held her hands up in defence. "Okay, okay – I know you guys use protection." Beca uttered an 'oh my god', quiet enough so the older woman couldn't hear. "Your paint's peeling," Sheila commented as the women walked up the steps that lead to the front door.

"Thank you for this unique information," Beca said softly as they finally managed to walk through the door.

"Hi," Sheila said longingly to Jesse, who was waiting patiently by the door.

"Hi," Jesse replied with his usual, chipper tone, closing the door behind them.

Smiling around the hallway, Sheila's eyes finally landed on a painting hung up in the sitting room. It was, to put it kindly, a mess; an absolute catastrophe. "What is that?" Sheila asked, pointing her finger in its direction.

"Jesse painted it," Beca informed, proud of her boyfriend's artwork, even though she herself thought it was absolute trash. "It's called _Oppression_."

" _Liberation_ ," Jesse corrected.

"Right, _Oppression_ 's in the bathroom." Beca nodded to herself, thankful that Jesse was there to help her tell these pointless things apart.

Sheila pressed her lips together, thinking, before finally smiling broadly. "Nice," she complimented, for her stepdaughter's benefit – she had never been fond of Jesse's abstract paintings. Or any of his paintings for that matter.

Yikes.

* * *

Instead of cooking anything fancy, in true Beca Mitchell fashion, she ordered a pizza. You can't go wrong with a pizza. The adults were gathered around the dining table, noshing their meals. Sheila handed her husband his medication, making sure he took them with a swig of his water.

"So," Sheila asked her stepdaughter, "what's the occasion?"

"I, um," Beca stammered, swallowing a bite of pizza, "have to tell you something." Jesse glanced at his girlfriend, proud that she finally managed to buck up the courage to tell her parents. "Promise me you're gonna stay calm."

Sheila snorted slightly. "Rebecca, don't be so overdramatic."

"Just promise me, okay?" Beca said sternly, looking her in the eye.

"I promise," Sheila said. "You always make me out to be some irrational bitch."

Beca sighed. This was it. This was the moment she was going to tell them. Just like Jesse and Amy, telling her parents was almost driving her to tears. She looked over to Jesse, who smiled at her reassuringly and placed his hand on top of her own.

"Have you ever seen _Terms of Endearment_?" was Beca's initial thought. She'd never been one to watch movies, but for Jesse's sake, she'd agreed to watch one a week with him. This particular film was apparently one of his favourites. Sheila nodded her head.

"Beca, just tell her," Jesse spoke up for the first time in a while, shovelling salad into his mouth.

"Tell me what?" Sheila asked, her interest piqued.

Beca looked down at her plate, counting the olives buried amongst the cheese. It took her longer than expected before she finally came out with the truth. "I have cancer."

Shelia was shocked stiff. What did she just say? Was she serious? Did she hear her correctly? This couldn't be right…

"What do you mean you have cancer?" she breathed out.

" _I have cancer_ ," Beca stressed, frustrated. "How else do you want me to say it?"

"When–" Sheila cleared her throat, trying her darndest to keep her tears in her ducts. "When did this happen?"

The short woman avoided her prying stare. "A few days ago," she mumbled.

"A few days ago?" Sheila repeated incredulously. "You waited a few days to tell me this?" Beca bobbed her head, still unable to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry, you're right." Usually, Beca doesn't apologise to anyone, especially to her stepmother. But she was kind of in the wrong – she should have told her parents as soon as she found out. She still wasn't used to it herself yet.

Beca sucked in a breath, a single tear slipping down her cheek. Great, now she was crying!

"Sweetie," Sheila said remorsefully. Jesse stabbed at his salad and Benjamin took a sip of his water. "I'm moving in," Sheila decided.

"What?" Beca's eyes were so wide, she was sure they almost fell out of their sockets. "No, no way."

"I'm your mother, Rebecca."

"No, you're not!" Beca hadn't meant for it to come out as bad as it did, and she immediately regretted it as she watched Sheila's face drop. "You've already got enough on your plate with him." Beca motioned towards her father, who just looked around, wondering why this woman had called on him.

"Who's gonna take you to your appointments?" Sheila's voice was beginning to rise. "You don't drive a car – who's gonna look after you?"

There was a pregnant pause as Beca slowly looked over at her silent boyfriend, begging for his help.

"Me," he spoke up. "I'm going to take care of her." He gently rubbed Beca's back soothingly, knowing that she could blow up at any moment. Jesse knew the woman opposite him didn't like him very much, so he wasn't surprised when she got up from her seat and stormed from the dining room.

"Sheila!" Beca called, quickly following her to calm the woman down. Jesse, not used to being alone with the man, smiled kindly at Benjamin. "Come back, please," Beca tried to encourage.

"I'm going to make you some green tea," Sheila informed, ripping the teabag free of its little bag. "I heard on the _Today Show_ that it reduces cancer by fifteen-percent."

Beca watched her flip the switch on the kettle. "I already have cancer," she reminded. "Can you come sit back down?" She kept her voice low and mellow, not wanting to infuriate her. Without another word, Sheila pulled the stunted woman in for a hug, sobbing into her shoulder. Beca patted her back, silently cursing how affectionate her stepmother was.

* * *

Wednesday was the day of Beca's first therapy appointment. She had booked an appointment with a certain Doctor Beale. It was the first name that popped up, she so figured 'why not?'. Let's just hope he ain't some creepy, old dude.

"Hi," Beca timidly greeted the woman at the desk, "I'm looking for a Doctor Beale."

"Second door down there," the receptionist informed, smiling kindly and pointing her in the right direction.

Nodding her head, Beca made her way slowly towards her destination. She didn't want to do this, not by a long shot. It was Sheila who had convinced her, saying that it would help her deal with her cancer. She even offered to drive her, which Beca immediately declined – no way was she sitting in a car with an over worried, crazy lady. The bus was much more easier on her sanity.

Taking a deep breath, Beca knocked on the door labelled 'Centre for Supportive Care / C. Beale'. After hearing a muffled 'come in', Beca let herself into the room.

Upon entering, the first thing Beca noticed was how large the room was. There were multiple plants strewn about the place – presumably fake – pictures of... things framed on the walls, a sizable table in the middle with a bowl of fruit – again, most likely fake – placed neatly in the centre. There was even a bookcase that took up the entire wall on the far side of the room. But the thing that struck Beca most was the woman sitting on the couch, seemingly enjoying a sandwich. Beca smiled kindly at her.

"Hi," she spoke slowly.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, wiping her lips of any lingering crumbs.

"I'm supposed to have an appointment with Doctor Beale." Beca bit her lower lip, wondering why the hell this lady was here.

The redhead quickly rose from her seat, carefully placing her half-eaten lunch on the table in front of her. "Oh, sorry." She released a light chuckle, which Beca found strangely adorable. "Please come in, and call me Chloe." She smiled brightly at Beca, holding out her hand, which Beca immediately took in her own, finding her smile infectious.

" _You're_ Doctor Beale," Beca acknowledged.

"I am," Chloe said proudly, motioning over to the couch she vacated. "Have a seat." Beca gingerly made her way to the couch, and sat herself down, watching as Chloe cleaned up the table separating them, frantically apologising as she did so. "Um, you're Rebecca, right?" she asked politely.

There was that goddamn name again. "Yeah, uh," the brunette almost couldn't get her words out – this woman really liked to smile, huh? – "please call me Beca," she just about pleaded. "And aren't you supposed to be wearing earth-tones," Chloe looked down at her blue chequered dress, "and be a sixty-five-year-old man or something?"

"Did someone say I looked like that?" she asked carefully. She was gonna have some serious words with that someone if they had.

"No, no, no!" Beca quickly defended. "Sorry, if you don't mind," she paused for a moment, suddenly caught up in the redhead's crystal blue eyes, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-four." This shocked Beca. Holy shit was this chick young!

It took a moment for Beca to process this new information, and when she did, all that she could come up with was, "what?"

"I'm twenty-four," Chloe repeated, much more slowly this time.

"So you're like Doogie Howser or something?" Beca chuckled at her own abysmal joke.

Chloe locked her with a questionable gaze. "Who?" she asked.

"Yanno, the teenage doctor," Beca explained, suddenly feeling like a dinosaur.

"Oh, does he work here?" Chloe was both surprised and impressed at this. Maybe she could get some tips and tricks from him.

"No, he's, um–" Beca sighed to herself – therapy was a bad idea. "I meant you just seem pretty young for a doctor."

Chloe suddenly felt like a huge idiot. She'd just met this woman – this incredibly beautiful woman – and she'd already made a fool of herself. "Technically, I'm not a doctor yet," she informed, hoping Beca would forget about their awkward little exchange. "I'm actually working on my doctorate." She smiled widely at the small person sitting on her couch, who seemed rather impressed. "This is a training hospital."

"So have you had many patients?" Beca was genuinely curious, but when a dead silence fell over the room, she knew she said something wrong.

"Um," Chloe hummed, "my patient history is a little–"

"I'm your first patient, aren't I?" Beca quickly deducted, which caused Chloe to snort her laughter. "I'm not?"

"No," she breathed, "not at all." She wiped a stray tear that managed to slip through during her mini laughing fit.

Beca lifted an eyebrow. "Second?" she pondered, only making Chloe erupt into hysterics again. "Third?" The laughter suddenly died in her throat as she ensnared her lip between her teeth. Beca was expecting to at least reach five, not to reach her answer so early. "Great," she uttered, looking down at her clasped hands before bringing her eyes up to Chloe's. "How are the first two doing?"

Chloe huffed a chuckle. "Can't really talk about that," she told her. Now it was Beca's turn to feel stupid. Of course she can't tell her, patient confidentiality and all that.

"Right." Wanting to keep the conversation going so she didn't have to partake in any actual therapy just yet, Beca asked, "so, this is training for you?" She gestured between the two of them.

"It will be part of my dissertation, but–" Chloe tried, but was immediately cut off by a disgruntled brunette.

"Oh, so you're gonna write about this?"

"Don't worry," Chloe reassured her, "I don't use your real name."

Beca scoffed slightly. "Right, that's cool," she said, a little more harshly than she meant to.

Not wanting to infuriate her any more than she already had, Chloe pulled out a file from a cabinet behind her. "Um, Doctor Whittaker filled me in on your situation," she said professionally, taking a seat in an extremely comfy looking chair. Beca briefly wondered why she didn't get a comfy chair – she was the patient, after all. Chloe's almost permanent smile faltered slightly. "This must be incredibly difficult that all this..." she trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Instead, she decided on the generic therapist line, "how do you feel right now?"

"Fine," Beca shot out, a little too quickly, kicking herself at how harsh it sounded to her own ears. "I'm great. I feel–" She hummed to herself, collecting her thoughts. "I can't remember being so calm in a really long time."

"That's a really common symptom in patients like yourself," Chloe explain cheerfully, glad that the actual therapy was going swimmingly thus far. She tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear before continuing. "Your body is in survival mode, so what you're experiencing is just shock."

"I think I'm actually just fine," Beca commented softly, refusing to admit that she was part of a Call of Duty game.

"Right, but that's why you're feeling the sense of calm," Chloe rationalised. "Would you describe what you're feeling as a kind of numbness?"

"No, I'd describe it as fine," Beca said, feeling her anger rising again.

"Because certain patients feel like–"

"I feel great," Beca cut her off with a small smile, not wanting this particular conversation to carry on for longer than it needed to. She absentmindedly brought her thumb to her mouth and began nibbling away at the nail.

Chloe breathed a small sigh, but kept smiling nonetheless. "That's wonderful. I think that's awesome." Beca glanced at the redhead and nodded, at least acknowledging what she said. "If it's okay with you," Chloe went on to say, "I think maybe today we'll just start with some simple relaxation exercises."

"I am relaxed," Beca grumbled.

"I know you are," Chloe said, thinking how difficult and impossible this particular patient was going to be. Why did she have to be so goddamn stubborn? She was only trying to do her job. "Um, but just humour me?" Chloe laughed nervously at Beca's passive expression. "If you wanna lie down." Chloe gestured to the couch.

Without another word, Beca removed the cushions from said couch and rested her head gently down on one of them, and cradled the other close to her body. Chloe slowly walked over to her laptop that was situated on the desk behind her, and pressed play on a Spotify playlist titled 'Therapy Jams'. A second later, a soft melody made its way out of the speakers. Beca raised a questioning brow, as if to say 'what the fuck is this shit?', but Chloe responded with a kind smile. Once Beca focused her gaze on the ceiling, Chloe couldn't help but roll her eyes as she reclaimed her seat.

"Okay," she said, "now close your eyes," she ordered.

"Seriously?" Beca asked incredulously, craning her head so she could get a better look at her therapist.

"For this to work, you're gonna have to trust me." Chloe tone was soft and gentle, almost as if she was about to tell a child their bunny went to live on a farm up state. For some reason, though, it soothed Beca; she did as she was told and closed her eyes.

Maybe this therapy junk was going to be a good thing after all.

* * *

 **Welp, Beca and Chloe didn't get off to the best start! Oh well! I have a feeling they're gonna become very fast friends, though.**

 **Let me know if I should make an actual 'Therapy Jams' playlist! I feel like that could be a fun thing to do.**

 **See you guys in the next chapter!**

 **Catcha later and have a great day.  
Dilly xx**


	3. New Friends and Butt Trimmers

**Okay, I know I updated this story literally a few days ago, but I got this done pretty early, and I didn't wanna keep you guys waiting for another two weeks. I'll be updating this story way more often now that I got into the flow of writing it all day, every day. So, like, expect updates more often, I guess.**

 **Fun fact: today, after getting back from seeing my therapist [yes, I have an actual therapist], a package was delivered to my door. And it was none other than the Pitch Perfect trilogy! Just thought I'd drop this in, because it isn't out in the UK until Monday! I feel special.**

 **Anyway, enough about me! Let's see how's Beca's doing - enjoy, you awesome nerds!**

* * *

"No peeking, keep your eyes closed," Jesse ordered Beca. He guided her through the house until they reached, what Beca assumed was, the sitting room. As soon as she walked through the door, Jesse told his girlfriend to close her eyes. She was confused at first, but after a moderately decent therapy session, she was feeling pretty generous. "Okay." Jesse held Beca in place, making sure she was facing the right direction. "Open."

Beca was expecting to find Jesse lounging naked on the couch, or at least a beautiful candlelit dinner. She wasn't expecting a dog to be perched across from her, staring into her soul.

"Surprise!" Jesse cheered. "Her name is Bella, and she's a retired race dog."

Beca had no words. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally settling on, "you got me an old dog?"

"She's not _that_ old," Jesse clarified, seeking out Beca's hand and holding onto it.

"Old enough to be retired." Beca couldn't take her eyes off the dog in front of her.

"I read on the internet that having a dog helps with the healing process," the tall man explained.

Beca was thankful that he was at least taking an interest, trying to help in his own way. But Beca being Beca, she couldn't help but be sarcastic about the situation.

"Does she have a medical licence, or something?"

"Alright, forget it." Jesse mocked a sigh. "I'll just take her back to the shelter tomorrow."

The woman's concern suddenly grew to a rapid ten foot. "Then what happens to her?"

Jesse decided to really make Beca feel awful about rejecting his gift. "Well, she'll be put back into a tiny cage with about ten other dogs, who will bully and rape her until she's eventually euthanised," he responded calmly. Bella gazed up at Beca with those big, wet eyes, pleading for her to let her stay in their humble abode.

Sighing, Beca caved. "Fine, I'll keep the dog."

"Really?" Jesse asked sweetly, leaning into his girlfriend slightly. Beca let a small smile cross her lips as she nodded her head. "This is gonna be so good for you, I promise." Jesse placed a loving kiss on Beca's cheek and pulled her in for an embrace.

Beca's smile grew ten times larger when she glanced sideways at her new pet.

* * *

The tiny woman would have loved to have stayed to get to know Bella a little more, but unfortunately, she got called into the radio station, Amy claiming she needed her help _urgently_. Of course with the music blaring through the receiver and the chatting and yelling of her co-workers, Beca wasn't at all surprised when she walked through those doors and found there to be a party waiting for her. Beca gave everyone a phony cry of excitement and quickly went to mingle with her 'friends'.

Amy, on the hand, decided to chat up her co-workers. "This whole party was my idea," she flirted, wiping away a fake tear. "I thought that we could celebrate her life, yanno?"

"She's gonna get better, isn't she?" the man asked her, Amy smiling sheepishly.

"I hope so, but I just," Amy dabbed a tissue under right eye, giving the illusion that she was crying, "I'm not even thinking about that." The man in front of her nodded in understanding. "Tonight isn't about whether she stays or goes. Tonight, I thought it'd be best to celebrate the Beca we all know and love."

"You are such a good friend," the man gushed, placing a gentle hand on the Australian's hip.

Beca was having decidedly less enjoyable conversations. Throughout the entire night, she kept getting asked the same questions by people she didn't even recognise, let alone knew the names of.

"You started chemo yet?"

"What kind of cancer you got?"

"You wanna know the secret to beating this thing?"

"My uncle had what you have."

She tried to answer and respond as best she could without sounding too cruel, but Beca's patience was growing thin. She wanted to just walk away and return to her dog and boyfriend and just sleep, but she wasn't here for herself. She was here for Amy. If she left now without even saying goodbye to her, she'd look like a total dick.

Across the room, Beca spotted her best friend having her arm rubbed by yet another stranger. She'd been at this all night – she'd walk up to a random guy and give a sob story about how her best friend has cancer and might die. It was honestly kind of pissing Beca off. This was her party, wasn't it?

She got so lost in her own brooding, that she hadn't noticed her boss making his way to her; she choked on her water slightly when she saw him approach.

"I'm gonna miss you, Reggie," he said. Beca had gotten tired of repeating her real name to him, considering he never even tried to remember it. She guessed that he had one too many drinks that night, because her boss unexpectedly pulled her into a hug – something he doesn't just go around doing.

"I'm, uh, gonna miss you, too," Beca got out, patting him on the back awkwardly [she'd never been much of a hugger]. When he didn't release her, Beca spoke up again. "Hey, Sammy." Finally, she was free of the expensive cologne assaulting her senses. "I want you to know that I'm still gonna finish that a-cappella story."

"You take as much time as you need," Sammy said, his voice cracking every other syllable. "I can't wait to hear it." Setting a comforting hand on Beca's shoulder, he took a swig of clear liquid, which Beca assumed, with how intoxicated he seemed, was straight vodka. Beca smiled awkwardly at her boss.

Damn this cursed cancer and all the pity friends that came with it!

* * *

The next few weeks had been jam packed with playful banter with Amy, therapy with Chloe, uncomfortable exchanges with co-workers and some well-deserved downtime with her boyfriend and dog. It had all been pretty swell up until she got informed that she'd be starting chemo.

Jesse had been more than willing to drive her to her first appointment, and Beca was eternally grateful.

"I just wanted to say," Beca spoke up as she snapped herself free of the seatbelt, "you've been really great these past couple of weeks." She smiled kindly at Jesse beside her. "And then making me breakfast and coming with me today..." she trailed off with a dreamy sigh. "Thank you."

"You're too kind," Jesse said, giving his girlfriend a soft kiss to the lips before Beca got out of the car. "Oh, Beca," Jesse called, and said woman poked her head back into the car with a raised eyebrow, wondering why he wasn't too getting out. "If it's cool," Jesse stammered, his hands getting a little too animated, "could I just wait here?" he finally asked.

"You know it's like, four hours, right?" Beca shot back.

Jesse nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"So you're gonna sit here for four hours?" the short brunette questioned, confused as to why he wouldn't just come inside with her.

"Look," Jesse began softly, "I don't wanna mix _that_ world," he motioned to the hospital just beyond the car's window, "and, well, this world." Beca just gaped at him – was he serious right now? "It's an energy thing."

Typical artist.

"Alright," Beca said, feeling slightly more dead inside than she already did. Breathing a sigh at Jesse's nervous laughter, she closed the passenger door and slowly made her way to the hospital, not even giving her boyfriend the benefit of a wave.

When Beca didn't say a word, Jesse rolled down his window and called out, "good luck!" with as much enthusiasm as he could muster; Beca ignored him.

* * *

The wait to begin her chemotherapy was killing Beca more than the tumour was. She sat there, in the most uncomfortable chair imaginable, biting at her fingernails once more. Why was she so nervous? Chemo is a very standard procedure for all cancer patients – she had nothing to freak out over! Of course, it could go wrong or not work at all. That was a thing that was possible. Beca groaned to herself, sick and tired and these thoughts attacking her like this.

"Rebecca Mitchell?" She quickly raised her head at her name being called and immediately stood up to greet the overly tall nurse. She followed him down the hallway and into an elevator.

The elevator ride was... quiet. The chimes of the music drilled into Beca's ears, and it was beginning to drive her to insanity. Thankfully, the doors to the lift opened up, and she once again followed the nurse down an obnoxiously long hallway. They passed an elderly woman, coughing violently into a handkerchief and a floral bandana tied around her head. The poor, frail thing was almost toppling over.

Beca sat in an – if possible – even more uncomfortable chair than before and was soon hooked up to an IV drip. It stung at first, but Beca was more than certain she'd get used to it. Sighing deeply, she took a look around, only to find people in the exact same situation she was in. Most of them pensioners, of course, seeming to have been on this treatment for an extremely long time.

"Hey, Kid," came a voice from beside her, drawing her out of her musings. She turned her head to face the woman offering a tin of sweets. "Want a macaroon?"

"Um–" Beca took a long, good, hard look at this woman. Wrinkles dawned her face, but not as many as Beca thought there would be. Her hair was blonde and up in a small beehive-like style, and her eyes were almost as blue as Doctor Beale's beautiful orbs of– Beca stopped herself from thinking any further as she felt a blush start to burn in her cheeks. Was she really thinking about her therapist? And in such a crude, but totally awesome, way? "No thanks," she croaked out.

The blonde sucked on her lower lip for a moment, looking around suspiciously before leaning into Beca. "There's weed in them."

Beca had to force her gaping mouth shut. "Oh," she said. "Yeah, I don't do weed _,_ " she kindly declined.

"C'mon, Kid!" the woman exclaimed. "Get high with us." She smacked the arm of a man beside her.

Beca thought for a moment. There wasn't really any harm in it, right? After all, isn't this stuff medicinal in Georgia? She couldn't be bothered to check, so she gave the fellow cancer patient a timid smile.

"Okay," she accepted the offering, taking what she supposed was orange flavoured. "Thanks." Without much thought, she shovelled the entire thing into her mouth.

"Hey," the man on the opposite side of the woman said, catching Beca's attention, "how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-seven," she informed them.

Both seemed relatively stunned by this. They didn't get many young people in – it was all old fogies like themselves.

"Damn, what a waste of perfectly good youth," the woman said remorsefully.

"Listen here, Hobbit," the man said, leaning forward in his seat. Beca was taken aback by the rude comment, but didn't think anything by it – she was very short, after all. "This cancer is bullshit," he deadpanned. "First your hair falls out," he motioned towards his own smoothly bald head, "then your balls are gonna shrink." The blonde laughed at Beca's puzzled expression. Couldn't he see that she was very clearly a female? "To make matters worse, your dick becomes a constant source of disappointment."

"I'm not sure if you've noticed," Beca paused to swallow her _amazingly_ delicious snack, and motioned to her breasts, "but I'm a chick."

"Who said I was talking about you specifically?" the man asked, causing the woman between them to wheeze with laughter.

Beca scrunched her lips to side and nodded. "I was kinda scared about this whole cancer thing, but now I met you guys–" Beca gave them both a thumbs up, before they broke into hysterics.

"I'm Gail Abernathy-McKadden-Feinberger," the woman said, holding out her hand for Beca to shake. The man muttered something about 'saving the Jew for last'. "Stage three breast cancer," she informed. "Please to meet ya."

"John Smith." The man reached forward, also offering his hand to the brunette. "Metastatic prostate cancer."

"Nice to meet you both," Beca said as she sat back in her seat. "I'm Beca Mitchell, and I have schwannoma neurofibrosacroma," she got out in one mouthful, proud of herself for finally managing to memorise and pronounce the whole thing.

Gail choked back a laugh. "Slow down, Kid. What the fuck is that?"

"The more syllables, the worse it is," John spoke up, shoving a macaroon into his mouth.

The three of them were silent while Beca processed what the shit she just got told. Her mild worry died, however, when her two new friends began to chuckle.

"These are good, by the way," Beca complimented, plucking another baked-good from its tin and swallowing it almost whole.

"My wife made 'em," John clarified.

"How strong are they?" Beca wondered, eating yet another.

Gail leaned closer to whisper loudly, "strroooong." Beca couldn't help but laugh along with them, feeling the effects of the marijuana hitting her like a truck.

* * *

After her chemotherapy was over, Beca had an enormous shit-eating grin plastered to her face. Everything appeared to be moving in slow motion for her.

She chuckled at the wall-sized children's painting, finding their huge heads and stick arms mighty hilarious. A man in a gurney rolled passed her. She wasn't sure, considering her vision had glazed over slightly, but he seemed to be in a great deal of pain. Beca gave the sick man a pair of fingerguns before moving on her way. She soon came across a sobbing family of three, clearly having received some terrible news. There was even a body bag being rolled away to the morgue.

Beca quickly turned away, and sputtered a laugh into her hand. She danced down the hallway to a happy tune resonating in her head.

She didn't think she'd smiled this much in weeks.

That night, Beca woke up in a cold sweat, feeling extremely nauseous. She quickly removed herself from the sheets of her bed, and sprang to the toilet to empty her stomach. She coughed and spat a few times before throwing up again.

"Beca?" she heard a meek voice call from the bedroom. "You okay?"

Beca didn't respond. Instead, she fell back against the wall, her expression unreadable. Whether this was a side effect of being high for the first time or the chemo, Beca wasn't sure. But she didn't like it one bit.

* * *

She wasn't gonna lie, Beca was enjoying therapy. She got to spend about an hour alone with a gorgeous redhead. They spoke, swapped a bit of banter – Beca was beginning to grow more open and confident with her. Chloe was very easy to talk to.

Beca would always look forward to seeing her therapist.

"How are you feeling after your first chemo?" Chloe asked her as soon as she lied down.

After a moment's contemplation, Beca replied with, "I feel like shit." Chloe had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh. "You know when you're _so_ hungry, it feels like your stomach is trying to eat itself?" Chloe nodded her head at Beca's strange analogy. "That's what my head feels like."

"From what I understand," Chloe spoke softly, "it's really rough." Beca gently nodded, not wanting to enrage the jackhammer in her head. "But it will pass!" the redhead ended optimistically, giving Beca a pat on her shoulder, causing her to flinch at the contact. The small woman hummed, waiting for Chloe to speak again. Thankfully, she did. "It's important to remember that these side effects are completely normal," is what she came up with, sensing her patient's inner turmoil.

"That's good," Beca snarked, "I'd hate to feel special in some way."

"Okay, I'm sensing some anger here," Chloe commented, jotting something down in a leather encased notebook. "Which is good."

Beca huffed a short laugh. "I'm not angry." Chloe lifted a challenging eyebrow, a small smirk on her lips that made Beca's stomach flip [she blamed it on the chemo]. "Why would that be good?" she asked, admitting that she was, in fact, angry.

"Because you're expressing yourself." Chloe shot Beca a smile, proud of the progress they were making, but that smile dropped as she continued. "You're dealing with a really serious illness, and it can evoke all these emotions."

"Are you trying to freak me out?" Beca asked, turning her head to get a good look at the redhead. "Is that your goal here?"

Chloe bit her lower lip. They were getting on so great! What happened to them [she blamed it on the chemo]? "I'm not trying to freak you out, Beca." She offered another smile, but her patient simply rolled her eyes with a sigh and settled herself back into the couch. "What I do want is for you to get in touch with your inner feelings. So, if you're angry–"

"I'm not angry!" Beca cut her off, angrily. Chloe was stunned by her sudden outburst; she almost jumped out of her skin. "Can we just do those relaxation things, please?" Doctor Beale kept her gaze on the brunette, her face unreadable as she contemplated her next move. "I wanna hear sitars or someshit, and go to my happy place, and feel the 'warm beam of light'." The direct quote from a previous session should have caused Chloe to at least give off a tiny grin, but all it did was make her frown.

"I see," she said solemnly, playing with the corner of her notebook.

Beca felt like a dick. "I'm sorry," she apologised, sitting up [why was she asking for forgiveness?]. "I'm an asshole, I didn't mean to say that." Beca rubbed her brow, hoping it would ease the vice's hold on her head.

"I don't need you to take care of me." Beca looked up at Chloe's comment, fixing her eyes to hers. "I'm here to take care of you," Chloe finished.

The stunted brunette bobbed her head. "You're right," she agreed, her anger somehow evaporating. Her lips curled up, and Chloe couldn't help but smile back at her.

The doctor-to-be momentarily got lost in those baby-blues before snapping out of her trance. "There are a couple of books I want you to check out," she said distractedly, flipping through her notebook. "A lot of people find them really helpful." Chloe couldn't lift her head, afraid she would do something she'd regret. She tore the page from its spine and folded it neatly in half, handing it over to Beca, being extremely careful not to look into her eyes. "You don't have to read them cover-to-cover." Beca accepted the note, opening it to read the suggested titles, somewhat confused by her therapist's odd behaviour. "Take a look and see if anything helps." Once again, Chloe patted Beca's arm soothingly.

This put Beca off her inner reflection. "Are you gonna keep touching me like that?" she asked.

"Like this?" Chloe dared, reaching forward again, placing her palm on Beca's forearm again. Beca cleared her throat before nodding; Chloe struggled to hide her smirk at her sudden embarrassment. "It's to make you feel more at ease," she explained with a sly wink.

"It's like being slapped by a sea otter." Beca demonstrated by smacking her hand lightly against Chloe's knee.

"It also promotes trust," the redhead said matter-of-factly. "It's one of the key ways that hospital practitioners make their patients feel more secure in stressful situations." She ended her statement with a warm smile.

"That's great," Beca gave her a small thumbs-up, "really, it is. But can you just... not?"

Chloe agreed with a small, "okay," before recalling what Beca had said not two minutes ago. "Really, a sea otter?" She almost sounded offended; Beca had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. "Is this better?" Carefully resting her hand against Beca's shoulder, Chloe slowly glided it down in one, fluid stroke.

"That's just creepy," the older woman said after a minor brain fart, weirdly liking the sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Chloe shot back into her chair to sit up straight, keeping her hands to herself. "I'm sorry," she rushed out. Looking down at her notebook, her lips twisted into a smirk. "You don't like that; that's fine."

Her eyes darted up to meet with Beca's, and they shared a knowing smile.

* * *

"You shouldn't do this, you're making a huge mistake."

After therapy, Beca decided to give her best friend a visit, a minute idea springing to mind. She was most likely going to regret this, but with her cancer, it was pretty much inevitable. She stood in Amy's bathroom, a towel draped over her shoulders and was facing the mirror, the Australian directly behind her.

"You're gonna look like Pitbull," she deadpanned.

"What are you talking about?" Beca asked, her eyes never leaving her own in the mirror.

"All you need is a pair of sunglasses and to be extremely keen on saying 'dale'." Amy lowered her voice and dropped her Sydney accent for a Spanish one – it was surprisingly effective.

Beca turned to look directly at her friend. "Remember when I called you on the bus?" she asked, and Amy nodded. "And you said that you liked this idea?"

"If you recall," Amy said, holding up an index finger, "I said I liked the idea _in theory_." Beca rolled her eyes. "Now that we're standing here, I think you're gonna look like fucking Vin Diesel."

"No, we're doing this," ordered Beca, facing the mirror once again, ignoring her friend's protests.

"You do it," Amy suggested, shoving a male's razor into her hands.

Beca immediately gave it back. "You said you'd do it," she practically whined, bouncing on her toes like a child.

"But if it looks fucked up, you're gonna blame me every time you look at me and your weird, bald head!" Amy complained right back. Having enough of this back and forth, Beca snatched the razor from Amy's clutches and switched it on. The Australian's hands magnetised to her face, shielding her eyes.

Bringing it to her head, Beca paused for a moment. "Where the hell did you even get this?" she asked, wondering why Amy owned a razor typically designed for the male human. She peered closer to the blades, turning it off. "And what is that?"

"One of my boyfriends left it here one time," Amy elaborated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. But why did she still have it in her bathroom?

"And have you ever cleaned it?" Beca questioned, spinning on her heel to look her dead in the eyes. Amy was soundless for a moment as she plucked the razor from Beca's hands and wiped the blades against her shirt, her eyes never leaving her small friend's. "Awesome," Beca muttered sarcastically, snatching it back, flipping it back into high-gear.

Taking a very deep breath, Beca squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled the blades to her scalp. Amy sheltered her eyes once more, hearing the trimmer make contact. Beca moved her hand, shaving a good chunk of her hair. She watched it fall to the floor.

"Aw, shit!" Amy exclaimed, peeking through her fingers, just as Beca shaved another bit off. "Holy fuck!" Amy watched with a grimace as her best friend continued to shave her hair down to the skin.

"Instead of just standing there," Beca spoke up, snapping Amy out of whatever trance she was in, "you want to do it?" She held the razor up to her, waiting for a response.

Without a word, Amy took the offered device, contemplating her decisions. This was a once in a lifetime thing, shaving your female best friend's head. Why not, right? Amy swiped away some fallen strands and slowly dragged the razor along Beca's head.

Beca thought she was enjoying it a little too much, what with the 'whoa's and 'ooh's – turns out she was wrong. "I don't wanna do it anymore," the Australian said, handing the razor back, but Beca declined.

"You gotta do the back, Ames," she informed, causing Amy to whine slightly, but she had no choice, so she did what had to be done.

After a while, Beca was completely, sort of, bald.

"Y'know, it's not as bad as I thought," Amy commented.

"It's totally uneven," Beca complained, running a hand along her head, grimacing at feeling.

The two women looked in the mirror, or more precisely, at Beca's no-hair. Neither said a word; they just stared silently, lost in their own separate, but similar, thoughts.

Amy was the first to break the silence. "I change my mind – it looks weird."

"We should never have done this," Beca agreed.

"Big mistake."

"We should have gone to a barber." Beca smacked her palm again her forehead, completely regretting her life decisions.

"Paying someone to do it would have definitely been the smarter choice." Amy nodded, unable to keep her eyes from Beca's baldness.

Beca avoided her friend's gaze when she said, "yeah, using your fucking vagina trimmers instead of going to a barber." She breathed a sigh. "We're idiots."

"I never wash them," Amy said out of the blue, plucking a few stray hairs from the blades of the razor, Beca rolling her eyes. "And it's not my vagina, it's my arsehole."

"Dude!" Beca spun around, thwacking the Australian's arm in the process. "You're fucking disgusting!"

"I'm kidding!" Amy tried to protest, but Beca was having none of it – she knew her best friend way too well to believe such an evident lie.

"You're not kidding."

Amy smiled sheepishly. "I'm not kidding," she confessed.

The two stood in silence again, each going over their most recent conversation. Amy grinned her notorious, shit-eating grin, silently laughing at the fact that they had used her arse trimmers on Beca's hair. Beca was silently beating herself up for allowing Amy to use her arse trimmers on her hair.

It was Beca's who cut through the dead air this time.

"You got a hat?"

* * *

 **Welp, that was a thing that happened! Beca's gone bald! I can't imagine Anna Kendrick without hair, let alone Beca. BeChloe is coming along verrrry nicely, though! I really enjoy writing their little moments together.**

 **Keep reviewing, or whatever [I don't mind if you don't]. They make my smile like I'm on meth or someshit. You probably think I'm joking - I'm really not. Your guys' words make me happy.**

 **Next chapter will hopefully be up sometime next week. I LOVE YOU AWESOME NERDS!**

 **Catcha later and have a great day.  
Dilly xx**


	4. Art Galleries and Breakups

**Sorry for the late-ish update! I know I said I'd get this chapter up sometime last week, but real life problems have been hitting me hard lately - I hope you understand.**

 **Bit of a heads up - this chapter is a bit... well, you'll see. Enjoy xx**

* * *

Beca was sat in between her new cancer friends, Gail and John. The first thing the two picked up on was the fact that Beca kept showing up wearing hats – a different one each time. The one today said the words 'ask about my down under', given as a gift by her inappropriate best friend. When Beca showed her two friends her now smoothly shaven head, they were taken aback at how quickly this symptom had come, so she had to explain that she wanted to do this and that she ultimately regretted it.

"Hey, Kid," Gail spoke up, catching Beca's attention. "How come we've never met Jesse?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"Does he have a weird shaped penis?" John said nonchalantly, placing his folded newspaper on the small table beside him. Gail snorted a laugh at the man's antics.

"No!" Beca shot down, the heat growing in her cheeks. "Hospitals just freak him out." John simply burst into laughter at such a ridiculous response. "What?" Beca questioned.

John had to control his breathing before he could speak. "Nobody likes hospitals, you stupid bitch." Beca wanted to slap him right there and then, but after a few chemo sessions, she had grown accustomed to this man's abrupt rudeness.

"Yeah, but you don't get it," Beca tried to reason. "He doesn't want to mix the negative and positive – it's an energy thing," she finished, fiddling with her thumbs.

"That's what you call a bullshit thing," Gail said.

"Well, you can meet him if you want," Beca suggested, gaining the pair's attention. "He's picking me up after this; I'm sure he'd love to meet you guys." It was difficult for Beca to make friends, and she had spoken to these two fairly quickly. If Beca could gain friends this easily, Jesse would have no problem. Gail and John nodded, happy to meet the young woman's boyfriend. "He's really awesome, you're gonna love him."

It was dark by the time their chemotherapy had ended, and Jesse's car was nowhere to be seen. They had been standing around for what felt like forever in the freezing night air. Beca had called her boyfriend multiple times, be he never picked up once. So, she tried again.

"Hey, Jess, it's me again," Beca said in a sweet voice, trying to not let her frustrations rule her. "Just calling to check if you're close." She sighed through her nose. "I'll talk to you soon. See ya." She hung up, wanting to dash her phone across the street.

"Need a ride, Hobbit?" John offered, sensing the small girl's irritation.

However, Beca had every faith in Jesse. "Nah, he's gonna show up. He's probably just busy or something." She shoved her mobile in her back pocket, knowing she'd most likely break it if she held onto it. "You guys should go, though; you can meet him next time."

Gail and John felt awful for their tiny, young friend. Although they wanted to meet Beca's boyfriend, they also needed to get home to their own partners. Maybe next time?

"Catcha later, Kid," Gail said before walking away from the hospital, John on tow.

Beca kindly waved them off before checking her watch with an exasperated sigh. How much longer did she have to wait? Beca sat down on the steps of the hospital, biting the nail on her thumb, and praying that Jesse would pick her up soon.

* * *

It was almost two hours before Jesse finally arrived. Beca had very almost given up, after calling and texting, she received no answer. It was a miracle she didn't deck him in the face when he pulled up.

"Beca," Jesse called apologetically as he got out of his car, his girlfriend unmoving. "I'm sorry, please don't be mad," he pleaded.

The brunette rose from where she was seated, trudging over to the car. "I've been calling for hours," Beca chided, clearly not in the mood for whatever bullshit excuse he'd managed to think up.

"My phone died," Jesse told her, staring down at his shoes.

"You don't have to do this, y'know," Beca mumbled. Although he wouldn't admit it, Beca could tell that Jesse was having a difficult time with this whole cancer thing. And she didn't blame him.

Jesse rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "Look, I'm sorry – I really am. I know I fucked up."

"I gave you an out," Beca reminded, making her way over to the passenger seat, earning a nod from her boyfriend.

"I'm doing my best," Jesse said, much more calmly, knowing that one should never mess with an irritated Beca Mitchell. "Can you just go home?" Beca nodded her head once, and they both got into Jesse's car, fastening their seatbelts in silence.

* * *

Beca woke up bright and early the next morning, not wanting to be in the same space as Jesse for longer than she had to. Luckily for her, he wasn't even in the house when she woke up. She didn't care where we was, or what he was doing. Like she said – she gave him an out. Both having the day off work, Amy decided to pick Beca up and drive them to the bookstore. She had to get those books that Dr. Beale suggested at some point, right?

"Inoperable Optimism?" Amy asked as they walked down the aisles of the local bookstore. "What does that even mean?" She flipped the book over to read the blurb on the back. "Cosper Schegel, un-American medical intuitive and mystic psychiatrist?" Amy scrunched up her nose. "I understand exactly half of those words." Rolling her eyes, Beca snatched the book from the blonde's grasp, reading it herself. "What the fuck is a mystic psychiatrist? Is he Frodo's Psychiatrist?" The worst part is, the question was serious. "Why would you buy this?" Amy asked, finally letting Beca speak for the first time since they entered the store.

"Because Chloe said to buy it," Beca uttered, on search for another book. "What else am I gonna do?"

Amy's face suddenly cracked in two. "So you're on a first-name basis now?" She shot her wink, causing Beca to roll her eyes again.

"I have a boyfriend," Beca sighed, shooting Amy a glare, knowing exactly what she was getting at.

"Right, I forgot, the one who isn't going down on you," Amy snarked. That flicked a switch within Beca – if Amy was cracking jokes like that, then her shaky relationship with Jesse was getting obvious, and something needs to be done about it. "Hey, check it out," Amy caught Beca's attention, looking over at an incredibly attractive man stacking shelves.

"Yeah, he's hot," Beca commented, not really paying attention.

Amy then snatched the piece of paper with book titles on from Beca's hands, muttering, "if you're not going to take advantage of this, then I will." Beca's attempts to call her back went unnoticed by the Australian, but she still watched on with intrigue as she flirted.

"Hi," Amy greeted, glancing at the man's nametag, "Luke. I'm Amy."

"Hi," Luke greeted back, his British accent strong.

"Could you help me find some of these, please?" Amy asked, showing the employee the list of books Beca was supposed to be getting.

Upon first glance, Luke noticed that all these titles had something to do with cancer. Amy shot a glance over at Beca, who mouthed back 'what are you doing?', only to give her a wink in return. "Are these for you?" Luke asked. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."

"No, don't worry about it," Amy reassured. "They're actually for my friend." She not-so-subtly pointed over in Beca's direction. "That girl over there, the little one in the hat." Beca immediately shot her head down to look at a random book that was about the furthest thing from her condition. Maybe she should move on from the sci-fi/fantasy section… "They're for her – she's really sick," Amy said.

"That's really awful," Luke said remorsefully.

Amy curtly nodded her head. "Type four back cancer," she enlightened, Luke's face dropping. Whispering an apology, he rubbed Amy's arm, silently offering her his condolences. "But I don't focus on that." Amy's voice suddenly lifted an octave, lightening the mood ever-so slightly. "I focus on the positive; I take her out to bookstores, take her for walks, get snacks." Beca couldn't believe this was actually working! "Take her out to play, stuff like that, while she has time."

"That's nice of you." Luke gave Amy a winning smile. "The books are just over here," he said, taking the Australian over to where she needed, Amy thanking him on the way.

At checkout, Beca offered the Brit a kind smile, not even saying a word to him. Luke on the other hand, was excessively grinning at the tiny woman. Shoving her new books in her bag, Beca got the hell out of there, not wanting to spend another second with someone who pitied her.

"I'll see you tonight, Luke." Amy gave the man a small wave before following her best friend out of the store. "Can you believe that score?" she gushed to Beca, almost vibrating with excitement. "I am totally sitting on his face tonight."

Beca was about to make a joke about the poor Brit getting suffocated, but decided against it. She was happy for her, even if she wouldn't shut up about all the crude things she was going to do it him.

* * *

Back at home, Beca was having a miserable time. She hadn't even touched the books she'd brought, just leaving on the table, still in her bag. Instead, she sat in the quiet and darkness of her sitting room, finding the ceiling remarkably interesting. When her phone rang, she didn't even jump. Beca looked at the device, and upon seeing the caller ID – Sheila – immediately declined the call. She didn't want to even look at anyone right now, let along talk. Not ten seconds later, the landline began to ring. After two rings, Beca sighed and pulled the phone to her ear.

"Hi, Sheila."

"What took you so long to pick up?" her stepmother asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Beca pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to let her annoyance get the better of her. "I'm fine, I'm fine; I didn't hear the phone," she fibbed.

"Do you need anything?" Sheila questioned. "I was about to go to the pharmacy for your father." She didn't even give Beca a chance to answer before she continued her rant. "I'll come over, and make you some dinner. I'll pick up some mac'n'cheese."

"I haven't liked mac'n'cheese since I was ten," Beca cut in, making up excuses, willing to give her left boob for her stepmother not to come over. "Plus, Jesse's coming over later." She ran her hand over her smoothly bald head, now familiar with the feeling. "I'm fine, don't worry so much."

"Okay, if you say so," Sheila forced begrudgingly. "I love you."

The tiniest of smiles graced Beca's lips – it's been a long time since she's heard those words said to her. But she couldn't manage to say it back. "Yeah," was all she said before hanging up. Bella jumped up onto the couch beside her owner, lifting Beca's arm with her snout. Usually, Beca wouldn't allow her on the couch, but she didn't have it in her to scold her.

She really needed a hug.

* * *

Elsewhere, Amy was on her date with Luke. Well, if you'd call a gallery opening a date. Amy wasn't complaining, though. In fact, she was spewing bollocks about the art on display.

"Whoa, this one's cool," Amy lied, admiring something that looked like two strips of artificial grass moulded together. "Check that out."

"My friend made this, actually," Luke said proudly, sipping his beverage.

"No way!" Amy mocked excitement. "Your friend has some raw talent." She was lying through her teeth, of course, but Luke didn't need to know that. "Uh-oh!" Amy exclaimed, turning on her heel. "I think I have a new favourite." The pair 'admired' a painting – a blue circle with a line in between. Amy then went on to describe the painting, hoping that alone would explain why she liked it so much. "The line in the middle totally sets it off; it's so different." Luke nodded along, agreeing with everything Amy was saying. "Holy shit, there's two of them!" Pointing over to her right, Amy marvelled at an almost identical painting, except this time the circle was red.

Luke pulled on Amy's arms, guiding her to another piece of modern art. "What do you think of this one?" he asked.

"Well," Amy began, looking up and down at a mess of, what she could only assume was, wooden furniture parts, "this is genius." She spent a good few, painfully long, seconds gazing at it. "I'm getting emotional just looking at it, it's fucking gorgeous," she spoke out her arse. "I mean, it's…" Amy trailed off as something much more appealing caught her eye.

Beyond the gaps of the sculpture, Amy saw none other than Jesse Swanson – Beca's boyfriend! He stood beside a tall, blonde woman, who was explaining certain aspects of a painting by her own creation.

"I should have known he was going to be here," Amy grumbled more to herself than her date. See, Amy never liked Jesse. She thought he was a negative influence on Beca – she hadn't been the same since she started dating him. There was just something about him that rubbed her wrong way. "I mean, it's a gallery opening, for fuck's sake."

"Who is he?" Luke asked curiously.

"You know my friend, the one who's sick with cancer?" Amy began, Luke nodding with a small frown at the mention of her ill friend. "That's her boyfriend," she finished through gritted teeth, glaring at Jesse as he slipped his arm around the tall blonde's waist and whispered something in her ear.

Luke took another sip of his beer, thinking out loud. "Doesn't look like he's anyone boyfriend," he commented, noting the obvious flirting between them. Then, the unthinkable happened.

Jesse kissed this tall blonde.

Amy's jaw dropped to her feet. "No fucking way!" she gasped as she fished her mobile from her back pocket. She snapped a photo, not even trying to be subtle. "I fucking nailed that cock-sucking cunt!" she gushed gleefully. "Can you believe that?"

Not bothering with an answer, Luke simply rolled his eyes and walked away, not wanting to be been socialising with such a rude arsehole. Amy didn't waste any time in quickly following him.

"I don't usually say that!"

* * *

Sometime later, Beca had fallen blissfully asleep on the couch, head happily resting on a cushion. Usually, nothing wakes a sleeping Beca – not even a thick dog tongue to the face. But somehow, her front door being unlocked and opened is enough to stir Beca from her slumber.

She slowly cracked her eyes open just in time to see Jesse attempting to sneak in.

"Hi," Beca croaked, rubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand.

"I'm sorry," Jesse apologised, "I didn't wanna wake you." He carefully closed the door as to not make a lot of noise; he smiled sympathetically at his exhausted girlfriend.

Not making an effort to sit up at all, Beca raised her arms to the brunet, clenching and unclenching her hands a few times, pouting. However, her silent request was denied as Jesse faked a yawn.

"I'm just really tired," he said. "Let's just go to bed, okay?" Beca's arms flopped down heavily. She couldn't even get a hug from her own goddamn boyfriend? What the actual fuck!

"Sure," Beca muttered under her breath, making it seem like the biggest task in the world to sit up.

In the silence of the room, the door suddenly sprang open, causing Jesse to almost jump out of his skin. Amy appeared on the other side of the door with a shit-eating grin. "Hey," she cooed. "Surprise, it's Amy!" She raised both arms, giving the couple jazz hands. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Jesse rested a hand to his forehead in exasperation. "What's up, Shrimp?"

"What time is it?" was all Beca asked, deciding to ignore the dig at her short stature.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Amy probed, slipping off her jacket and draping over the back of a nearby chair. "Am I interrupting something?" She knew she wasn't. All Amy wanted to do was expose the cheating scum.

Beca cleared her throat. "We were just about to go to bed, what do you want?"

Gasping, Amy placed a hand to her chest in mock shock. "Can't a girl visit her best friend in the late hours of the night without being interrogated?" Jesse rolled her eyes at the ridiculous woman, while Beca raised a single eyebrow. "I was just on a date, yanno, that guy from the bookstore." Beca nodded, allowing Amy to continue. "Said date did not go well, unfortunately, due to lack of chemistry, and overuse of profanity on my part." Beca nodded once more – yup, that sure sounded like her Amy. "But!" the chubby blonde continued, "whilst on this date, I ran into Jesse." She slung her arm over said man's shoulder. Jesse's eyes grew wide for a split second, already knowing where this was going.

"Yeah?" the brunette asked, interest piqued.

"And I would like to present to you," Amy carried on, swiping across her phone screen multiple times, "what I like to call…" she trailed off, trying to find the forsaken image, shoving her phone in front of Beca's face, "Exhibit Cheating Fuck!" Beca had to squint at the screen in front of her. Not because of the fact that she'd woken less than five minutes ago, but because the picture was such poor quality. "Look at it – that's Jesse!" Amy pointed to the screen, adrenalin taking over. "And that's some fucking filthy Barbie-looking motherfucker, and they're _kissing!_ " Beca took the device from Amy's hand, at a complete loss for words as she stared that the evidence in front of her. "I fucking _nailed_ you!" Amy directed towards Jesse, who was looking incredibly guilty. "I hated you for months, and now I have fucking evidence that you _suck_ as person!" Amy finally took a well needed breath. "No hard feelings, though."

Beca looked between the phone in her hands and to her… boyfriend? Does he even deserve that title anymore? She still couldn't believe this was happening.

"I'm gonna go," Amy said carefully as the two gazed at one another. She didn't go far, mind – just to the next room. She wanted to hear every detail of their breakup.

"What is this?" Beca finally spoke, gesturing to the phone in her hand. "Were you cheating on me?" Her voice very nearly cracked.

Jesse shot her a fake, toothy smile and sat down beside her. "Listen…" He chuckled nervously, pointing at the mobile, ready to lie before he said, "yes."

"Seriously?" Beca whispered hoarsely, unable to look at the man next to her.

Her heart had been shattered. Completely torn apart. Jesse had been the first guy to have shown any interest in her and her brooding personality; she'd bite the head off anyone who even came close to her. But Jesse was different. He cared. At least, he used to.

"Becs," he sighed, "you have no idea how hard it's been." Beca furrowed her brow at such a shit excuse for adultery – _he_ was having a hard time? "I don't know how to do this," Jesse confessed. "This has been so stressful, and you've been _so_ sick." The stunted woman stared ahead, her jaw clenched tight, trying to hold onto her rage. "Okay, Amy is one who has been using your cancer to get guys, you told me that!" He laughed, hoping it would ease at least a little of the tension that had surrounded the two. "Why am I the bad guy?"

"Because you're her boyfriend; you cheated on her!" Amy shouted through from the kitchen. "She has cancer, you lunatic!"

"Okay, Beca," Jesse said in an attempt to calm the girl down, "we had problems long before you got sick," he tried to justify. That's when Beca looked at him. Had they been having problems before? "And when you got sick, I didn't know what to do."

Beca chuckled mercilessly. "Why are you here then?" she asked. "Why do you spend every night in my bed?"

"I didn't want to abandon you," Jesse admitted softly. "Let's just go to bed, Becs." He gave her his charming smile. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay? I'm sorry."

"I can't stand in that kitchen and listen to this bullshit any longer," Amy deadpanned, strutting back into the sitting room, glass of water in hand. "You gotta fuck off." She pointed to Jesse and took a sip of her water. The man gazed into Beca's eyes, silently pleading for her to let him stay and at least try to fix this. "This is more uncomfortable than when you're the only one laughing at your own joke – just leave."

"We're gonna talk about this tomorrow, okay, Beca?" Beca didn't make the effort to stop him as he rose from his seat.

"No you won't," Amy said, ushering Jesse away from her best friend.

But the tall man stood his ground. "I care about you, Beca!" he stressed, trying to talk over Amy's insults. "It's not like this, I love you." Too little, too late, Beca thought. "Amy does not have your best interests in mind," Jesse said, louder than he should have, but the Australian just kept jabbering on; Beca gawked ahead at the two bickering like teenagers. "She is a bad influence on you, and I've thought that for a very long time, I want you to know that." Jesse opened the front door, ready to leave.

"I didn't fuck Barbie in her Dream House," Amy said matter-of-factly.

"Fuck you!" Jesse barked at Amy before slamming the door.

Amy let out an incredulous laugh. "Can you believe him?" she asked Beca, who hadn't moved from her spot on the couch.

"Yeah," she whispered after a while, "I can."

* * *

The bed was cold that night, the empty space beside Beca like the gaping wound in her heart. She lay there on her side, replaying what had happened less than an hour ago. Jesse really cheated on her, because he didn't know how to handle her cancer, acting as though he was the only being effected. Honestly, she didn't care anymore. They'd been growing apart for a while [apparently]; it was only a matter of time before they actually did something about it.

But why did it have to be now?

It had been playing on her mind for all of the next day. Sitting at the bus stop, all she could think about was Jesse. Travelling on the bus – to and from the hospital – Jesse was in her brain again. She didn't even bother to wear her headphones.

The following night – yep, you guessed it – Jesse was in the forefront of her thoughts again. But the bed wasn't as chilly this time. Beside her, Bella lay, staring at her owner. She knew something was eating away at Beca, but she didn't know what. All she knew was that she needed comfort. Bella rested her chin Beca's flank, wanting her owner to cheer up. Beca reached up and petted the dog, scratching behind her ear. She gave Bella a reassuring, clearly phony, smile before letting a frown replace it.

John was right – cancer is bullshit.

* * *

 **Poor Beca! Jesse, you dick! I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, if I'm honest, as most of it was written past midnight. Let me know what you guys think - I love your feedback.**

 **I'm planning on working on a new BeChloe fic, so keep an eye out for that, I guess?**

 **No Chloe in this chapter... BOOOO!**

 **Catcha later and have a great day.  
Dilly xx**


	5. Rebound and Aubrey

**Waddup? I know, this chapter is way overdue! But i have reasons! I completely lost all motivation to write. Or do anything, for that matter... But i felt guilty about making you all wait. SO, I wrote this! ... in less than 24 hours, so I'm sorry if it's a bit shite. I also made it extra long! Well, longer than my other chapters, anyway.**

 **Enjoy, you awesome nerds xx**

* * *

It's common knowledge that dogs needed to be walked. Everyone knows that, right? Welp, not Beca. She'd owned Bella for a few months now, and she hadn't once taken her for a stroll around the neighbourhood. So when the endless whimpering and whinging – from Amy, not the dog – Beca finally agreed to walk Bella. She needed to stretch her legs anyway.

And, of course, Amy just had to tag along to annoying the shit out of her.

"This is the best thing that has happened to you," she said, referring to the her and Jesse's breakup a few nights prior.

"Care to elaborate on that?" Beca asked, not really paying attention, focusing on not being dragged along on the pavement if Bella spots the squirrel she just noticed run up a tree.

"You deserve so much better, Bec," the Australian told her, taking an obnoxiously large bite of her doughnut. "I mean, if I was your boyfriend, you know what I would do?"

Beca closed her eyes, taking a long, deep breath to ease her irritation, adjusting her black beanie. "Please don't say what I think you're gonna say."

"I'd be eating you out every thirty minutes." Yep, Beca knew it. "Well, maybe not _every_ thirty minutes," Amy added as an afterthought, "but at least once every two hours. I'll even buy you _Tim Tams_."

"What the fuck is a Tim Tam?" Beca asked, reaching down to clean up what Bella so kindly left behind.

Amy gasped, drawing a hand to her chest in genuine shock. "Only the best chocolate biscuit ever invented!" She then went on to describe, in great detail, the differences between the Australian _Tim Tam_ and the British _Penguin_.

Honestly, Beca couldn't give any sort of shit. She wanted to get home as soon as possible, where it was warm and where she didn't have to listen to Amy dwindle on about how _Tim Tams_ are the more superior snack. Who – the hell – _cares?_ Not Beca, that's for sure.

"Can you bake me cookies instead?" Beca questioned in an attempt to shut down Amy's one-sided debate.

"What kind of cookies?"

"Snickerdoodle," Beca said without any hesitation, shoving a doggy-bag into a nearby waste bin.

"I'll shower you in snickerdoodle cookies," Amy joked. There's no way Beca would let her near a kitchen. She remembers the incident of '08 all too well.

A few more steps, and they stopped, a fellow dog-walker turning a corner. She was tall and attractive. Like, insanely attractive. One would even go as far as to say she was hot. This chick oozed sex appeal.

Amy immediately took interest in her papillon.

"Hi," Beca said to her, silently apologising for her gushing sidekick.

"Hey," the woman said, rather sultrily, noticing a dog attached to the leash at Beca's hand. "Heyyy," she cooed at the greyhound. "What her name?" she asked, scratching under the dog's chin.

"Bella," Beca informed, watching her pet lick this stranger's face.

"No way, that's my daughter's name!" Beca lifted a single eyebrow at this new information. She seemed a little too young to have a child. Then again, Chloe seemed a little too young to be a doctor. Ugh, why was she thinking about Chloe _now?_ "This little guy is Oscar." She fussed over her yappy little friend – and I don't mean Beca.

Amy did the exact same, scratching the puppy under his ears. "Hello, Oscar," she said in a high-pitched voice, earning an excited yelp from him. Beca knelt down to pet Bella's head soothingly, knowing that she wasn't one to be around other dogs. She's like her owner in that way – can't stand her own species.

"Do you live around here?" the stranger asked curiously.

"We sure do." Amy grinned, noting the way she locked eyes with her tiny friend. "He's sniffing her butt!" She pointed and laughed at the way Oscar's nose was pressed up against Bella's rear end. The strange woman soon joined in, finding it mighty hilarious as well.

Beca cleared her throat. "We should go," she told the two chuckling weirdos in front of her. "She gets cold when she's stationary like this." The woman nodded her head, understanding completely – kinda. "It was nice to meet you." Beca offered her a curt wave before she started to head off again.

"It was nice to meet you, too." She smiled at the two, ushering her pet to keep up with her long strides; Amy waved enthusiastically, even though she was already heading in the opposite direction.

"You could've totally tapped that, you know that, right?" the chubby Australian commented quietly.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Beca groaned. "No one wants to fuck me – I look like Voldemort and Charlie Brown's love child."

Amy snorted a laugh. "No, you don't." All Beca could do was roll her eyes, wanting this conversation to be over as quick as possible. Thankfully, her wish was granted. "It doesn't matter anyway. You should invite her out on a doggy date, tell her you have cancer, and fuck her right in the pussy." She shrugged as if she'd just explained how to make a cup of tea. " _She'd_ go down on you!"

"You honestly believe someone's gonna go with me just because I have cancer?" Beca was almost offended.

"Yes!" Amy exclaimed. "You're single now, Becs. You," she slammed a hand on her friend's shoulder, halting them, "are gonna let me help you get laid."

"What do I get out of this?" the stunted brunette asked, keeping a tight grip on the leash.

"Other than a dick in your mouth?" Amy mockingly suggested, Beca only giving her an expression that could only be read as 'change your fucking mind or run'. Amy delicately placed her index finger to her chin. "Snickerdoodle?" she offered.

Beca's face almost split in two as she grinned. "Snickerdoodle," she agreed.

* * *

The club was pumpin'! Popular dance tracks and house music blearing from an enormous speaker system. Beca knew she could do a better job in her sleep, though, but she wouldn't tell anyone that. Her mixes are for her ears only. Although, she's kinda been focusing on more life-threating things right now.

Anyway, Beca and Amy made their way through the throng of drunken morons, the blonde commenting about how many hot guys there were to choose from.

"What about that one?" Amy pointed over to a guy in the blue shirt at the bar, clearly waiting for the bartender to hurry up with his goddamn drink already!

"I guess so," Beca said, staring him up and down before coming to conclusion. "Not really my type."

"Oh, so now you have a type?" Amy laughed way too loudly, shoving her friend towards him.

Almost tripping over her feet, Beca crashed into the overly tall man. She chuckled meekly, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "Sorry," she uttered almost inaudibly, spinning on her heel and making her way back to Amy.

"That was painful," she deadpanned.

"It was also your fault." Beca couldn't help but smile – a real, genuine, heartfelt smile.

"You know what I would do?" Amy asked rhetorically, looking around their surroundings for some fresh meat.

"Enlighten me."

Amy made eyes at two men sitting and chatting with one another. "Get right into the cancer thing." Beca choked back a laugh at how ridiculous that sounded. "It's your hook, so you gotta use it."

"So I just go up to someone and be all like 'hi, I'm Beca and I have cancer'." The brunette gave quick jazz-hands before plunging her hands back into her pockets, realising how stupid and uncool that must have looked.

"That's what makes you different," Amy compliment, or at least Beca assumed it was a compliment. "Sympathy is your angle." The Australian pointed over at a couple of bopping women sipping on fruity cocktails.

Nodding her head confidently, Beca walked straight up to them, approaching the blonde first, rather than her brunette companion. "This is a great song," Beca yelled over the music, bobbing her head slightly. Beca hated this song.

"Yeah, it's really cool," the blonde replied, smiling kindly at her.

"I have cancer," Beca piped up abruptly.

The two friends looked to each other, at Beca, then back to one other before leaving her to stand there alone.

Way to work the angle, Mitchell.

She felt a force on her shoulder and then the smell of _Rouge Love_ by Rhianna assaulting her nostrils. "That was a bad idea," she heard Amy yell into her ear. "I was wrong, and that was weird."

"Yeah, that didn't sound cool," Beca agreed.

* * *

"Hey, I'm Amy," she introduced to the two male specimens she had spotted earlier in the night.

"I'm Theo," the British one spoke first, politely taking Amy's hand in his own. "And this is Bernard."

The man beside him scoffed, not bothering to shake the woman's hand. "My name is _Bumper_ ," he spat, downing the rest of his drink. "And you are probably the grossest human being I've ever seen."

"Well, you're no panty-dropper yourself," Amy snarled, darting her eyes up and down his chubby, little frame. Maybe she should reconsider her statement.

"Are you here alone?" Theo asked, making sure his companion didn't keep insulting her.

Amy shot her gaze over to where her best friend stood, alone and silent. She wasn't even dancing. Man, she missed her smile. She knew just the thing to cheer her up!

"I'm here with my friend, actually." Amy gestured in the direction of Beca, who brought her thumb up to her mouth and began nibbling.

"The small one?" Theo inquired, already gaining an interesting, no matter how gross her habits may be. Amy bobbed her head once before excusing herself.

The blonde made a beeline for Beca. "I just met two of _the_ hottest guys!" she squawked before she even reached her. "Over there." Beca followed Amy's pointing index to where the two men stood. One raised his glass with a smile, while the other downed yet another.

"They're cute," Beca agreed, Amy nodding with a cocky grin. "And they're actually talking to you?"

"Pretty much."

"As in an actual, proper conversation?"

" _Yes_ ," Amy stressed. "Now take the hat off." She tried to snatch the beanie from Beca's head, but the brunette was quick to stop her. She glared at her friend, claiming that it was too soon, as they had found out earlier on in the night.

* * *

The four found a secluded spot where the music wasn't making anyone's ears bleed. There were even comfy, diner-like seats! Whoda thunk it?

"So, what do you guys do?" Beca asked courteously.

"Well," Theo placed his glass on the table between them, "I just designed a website for collegiate a-cappella," he stated proudly.

"Really?" Beca squealed before clearing her throat unnecessarily. "Sorry, I'm a fan." Play it cool, Mitchell. "It's one of my favourite genres."

Bumper slurped obnoxiously loud through a straw, staring daggers at Amy across from him, who was more than happy to reciprocate the expression.

Was this them flirting? She couldn't tell.

"I mean, I like other genres, too," Beca said, trying to be as cool as she knew how. Amy snapped her attention to her friend beside her, silently urging her to shut the fuck up. "Rock, Pop, RnB, Country…" Beca continued to list off all of the types of music she knew at the top of her head [which was surprisingly a lot]. "My dog likes a-cappella, too, which is…" she trailed off, glancing at Amy, who subtly toyed with her blonde locks.

"That's cool," Theo commented, trying to not be ill-mannered in front of such a gorgeous woman such as herself. "What's your dog's name?"

Beca was pleased for the distraction of her ramblings. "Her name is Bella; she's great."

She caught Bumper jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, the universal symbol for 'let's ditch these fucking losers and get a burger'. Breathing a sigh, Beca muttered something about how warm it was in this particular spot of the club [despite the air conditioning going at full throttle], and pulled back her beanie, rubbing the smooth skin on her head.

"Whoa," Theo gawked, unable to tear his eyes from her, "that's a lot of no-hair."

"Nah, it's just cancer." Beca nonchalantly waved him off, as if it didn't bother her anymore.

That caught their attention. Try to run away now!

"Hang on, what?" Bumper spoke up for the first time since they sat down.

Beca pointed to herself. "Cancer," she reiterated. "It's not contagious or anything." She chuckled at her own joke.

"Oh my god," Theo breathed remorsefully. "If you don't mind me asking, what kind of cancer is it?"

Ah yes, the question that has taken over Beca's life these past few months. She was getting irritated with repeating the whole, bewildering name of the thing that is slowly killing her, so now she just says, "spinal."

"It's in her spine," Amy confirmed, as if the two men didn't know what the word meant. Well, by the looks of Bumper's stupid face, she was sure he didn't even know what cancer is.

"Wow, I didn't know that was a thing." Theo stared intently into Beca's cobalt eyes, smiling sweetly. "How'd you get it?"

Now that was something she didn't get enough. How _did_ she get cancer? She can't just tell them that she has no idea – that she was a perfectly healthy twenty-seven-year-old living her life as any normal person would; she didn't want to scare the living crap out of them.

Or she could be an evil, little shit.

"Bad mattress," she joked. The two men's faces looked like slapped arses, so Amy decided to burst out laughing.

"She's joking!" she elaborated, earning low, embarrassed chuckles from Bumper and Theo. "See – she's still got her sense of humour about the whole thing. Bitch is inspirational!" Usually, Beca would slap her upside the head for calling her bitch out in public like this, but she let it slide.

Rebecca Mitchell is an inspiration!

"She's very cute," Theo commented; Beca smiled at the Brit. "Hey, here's a crazy idea," he spoke up after a while. "Can I touch it, or is that weird?"

"Um…" Beca wasn't sure what to say or do [nothing entirely new, then]. No one has ever requested to touch her baldness before, maybe thinking it was hella insensitive. But honestly, she liked this. If she's comfortable with it, then others would be, too. That's how people work, right? "Sure, go ahead," she decided, leaning forward across the table, purposefully giving Theo a great view of her cleavage.

Cautiously, Theo raised his hand, hesitant. But as soon as his hand made contact with Beca's head, he quickly came to fucking love the sensation on his palm. "Whoa," he quietly gushed, "that's a nice head."

"Thanks, I've been working on it for a while," Beca jested, gaining laughs from her peers. She was at least eighty-six percent sure that they were pity laughs, but she still felt a sense of pride wash over her.

This night was tuning out to be pretty darn awesome.

* * *

Hotdogs! Everybody loves hotdogs. If you don't, you're lying to yourself because hotdogs are one of the most single greatest things that has ever come out of this planet.

I guess medicine and electricity are pretty important, too…

But Beca is never one to pass up a free hotdog! Especially one that is freshly cooked from a vendor – the best kind. She was feeling incredibly exhausted, though.

"Are you feeling okay?" Amy asked, noticing how drowsy Beca looked.

Clearing her throat, Beca rubbed her eye with the palm of her hand. "I gotta go sleep," she grumbled.

"You're shitting me, right?" the blonde said, sounding more offended than she most likely felt. "You have to be awake when he's awake. Otherwise, it turns into this whole other thing that one could get in grave trouble for."

"Talking from personal experience?" Beca challenged with a sleepy smirk.

Amy thought for a while, mouth hanging slightly agape. "That's not the point," she finally said. "The point is, don't throw this away because you need a nap."

"Can you at least give me an approximate time for when I'll be participating in coitus?" Beca stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and Amy checked the time on her phone.

"About ninety-five minutes," she enlightened, annoyance rising; Beca only groaned in response. "You're gonna fucking make it, because we need this." The tiny woman shook her head, fighting to keep her eyelids open. "You think I wanna wait that long? I need a warm, hard co–" She cut herself off when Theo and Bumper returned with their meat in buns. "Hey!" Amy greeted loudly. "What's next on the agenda?"

"You wanna hit up DSM?" Theo suggested. "I know the DJ."

Amy bobbed her head from side to side, her bottom lip jutted out. She had heard about the new club, apparently run by a bunch of – and I quote, from eavesdropping – Nazis. But if these fine gentlemen know them, then it can't be that terrible.

"I think I'm gonna go back to crash out," Beca said apologetically. "I'm just really exhausted – the chemo just takes it out of you, yanno?"

The four stood in silence, looking about absently. Way to put a downer on everyone's fun time, Beca! Then, an idea struck her, one she was sure they would all be behind.

"I have some pretty potent medical weed at my place, though," she said optimistically, the smile reappearing on Amy's lips twice as wide. "Yanno, if you wanna come over." Did she just–? She did! She just brought sexy times closer a whole hour and a half! Needless to say, Amy was impressed.

Theo and Bumper glanced at each other through the corners of their eyes, both coming to a mutual agreement.

"That sounds fun." Bumper grinned.

"That is a fantastic idea," Amy sang. "You are full of surprises, Beca Mitchell." The group fell into a fit of giggles – and this was before they started smoking.

"Taxi!" Theo called out, trying his best to hail one of the passing cars.

Someone tell him this isn't New York.

* * *

Okay, so it isn't like Theo is particularly _bad_ at sex! Beca was really fucking knackered and wanted to get some well-deserved rest. She couldn't very well do that with a bearded Brit moving above her. And _maybe_ being high had something to with it.

Beca grunts.

"I'm sorry, am I hurting you?" Theo asked, stopping his actions and voice rising in alarm.

"No, keep going," Beca demanded, and so he did.

Beca grunts again.

"Are you sure?" Theo ceased his movements once more. "Because you look like you're not having a good time."

Beca didn't want to put a downer on everything, but she had to tell him the truth. "Yeah, it hurts. My back hurts." I mean, she didn't want her tumour exploding and having more grow. Not that that would ever happen. That's not a thing, right? _Right?_

"Okay, I'll just…" Theo trailed off, removing himself from the woman below him. Flopping down beside her on the bed, he pulled up the sheets to give Beca any modesty she might have left.

Well, that was a great four and a half minutes.

As the bedroom was being occupied for the night by Beca and Theo, Amy and Bumper got assigned to the sitting room. Amy was perched on the couch, feet up on the coffee table wearing nothing but her underwear. It didn't alarm Beca at all when she strolled by to see where the hell the noise was coming from. Turns out, she was watching some crime-mystery-drama type thing on television.

Flipping the switch on the kettle, Beca poked her head back in through the doorway to ask if Amy wanted a coffee or anything. The Australian shook her head, pointing beside her at a sleeping Bumper on the adjacent couch, and mimed what looked like brushing her teeth. Beca was more than certain that's not what it was.

She smiled weakly before retreating back into the kitchen, sighing as the kettle finished boiling.

* * *

For years, people have been telling Beca that, in every photo ever taken of her, whether it be for schooling purposes, or with friends, or just in the background, she looks dead behind the eyes and has to fix her 'resting-bitch-face', whatever that is. It only recently occurred to Beca how right they were when her psychical examiner mentioned how she looked like an extra from _The Walking Dead_. She knows he was just trying to lighten the mood, but seriously, the guy referred her to fucking zombie!

Her tonsils her fine, and her glands were spiffing [people still say that, right?]. But having blood taken from your body, blood that you _kinda_ need, is never a fun time.

At least she got informed that she lost some weight. That was good, right? Yeah, probably not. She was already thin, and she didn't want to get any thinner.

Even the fucking bus was late! She'd been waiting for fifteen minutes already. She'd left her phone at home, not waiting a call from Sheila asking how she is and the billion other questions she gets from her every time she called. She didn't even bring her headphone and iPod, hoping that today's visit to the hospital would be quick and easy.

Things just keep tumbling down that steep hill.

"Beca?"

She turned her head at her name being called, finding her therapist standing just beyond the glass of the bus shelter. She looked beautiful today, she noticed [she looked beautiful every day, but Beca wasn't just gonna come out and say that], her red hair cascading past her shoulders, trapped by a crimson, woollen scarf. Her coat looked insanely warm – she wanted that coat. Or possibly the woman wearing it.

Behave, Beca!

"Oh, hi," she finally said.

"What are you doing?" Chloe asked courteously.

"Oh, y'know," Beca itched the tip of her nose, "just gathering dust." Chloe wasn't sure how to respond – was she being serious, or her usual, sarcastic self? She'd be lying if she said she hadn't noticed Beca deteriorating. Like those walls she'd tried so hard to break down had forced themselves back up again, towering higher than before. "I'm waiting for the bus, genius."

There's the Beca she knows and… tolerates! She tolerates Beca. Definitely not the other thing you were thinking. Pfft, that'd be _crazy!_

"Well, I'm heading home right now." Chloe smiled compassionately at her patient. "I have my car if you want a ride?" she offered, toying with her keys.

"I'm fine with the bus," Beca kindly declined. "Thanks, though."

"No, I can't just let you take the bus." Beca arched a challenging eyebrow, silently urging her to continue. "Well, buses are kinda gross, and they always smell like a retirement home, and they're _never_ on time." Beca couldn't deny that – stupid buses! "And considering it's public transport, it's pretty expensive."

Attempting to keep her laugh in by biting her lower lip, Beca could help think that Chloe's being absolutely adorable. Who knew something as simple as riding a bus could grind Doctor Chloe 'there's-a-silver-lining-in- _everything_ ' Beale's gears.

But Beca still couldn't burden her like that. Believe it or not, she cares for her therapist. A lot.

"I live pretty far away from here," she got out without choking on the laugh bubbling in her throat.

The redhead narrowed her eyes and pointed an index finger of doom in Beca's direction. She was almost convinced that she was going to shoot some sort of laser from the tip of the digit, vaporising her on the spot [which she'd welcome with open arms].

But instead, Chloe smiled that contagious, toothy grin of hers. "I won't take no for an answer."

* * *

And that's how Beca found herself in the passenger seat of her therapist's car, somewhere she never thought she'd be. It wasn't all bad, though. Her car was nice. Nothing too extravagant – just a… regular, grey car.

It was weird. If one were to look at Doctor Beale, take note of how she carries herself and always seems bubbly, optimistic and _clean_ , they'd think the vehicle she spends a good portion of her day in would mirror that.

Nope – Chloe's car was a fucking bombsite. Plastic containers, random scrap pieces of paper, empty crisp packets, paper cups from _Starbucks_ and movie theatres, crushed drinks bottles and cans… it all littered her car! There was even a box tucked under the front seats. It was a miracle she was able to move around in it at all.

And she could tell that Beca was irritated about it.

"Sorry about the mess," Chloe apologised. "I'm not good at getting rid of stuff." Beca nodded, keeping her eyes on the road ahead, even though she wasn't the one driving. "Not like a hoarder, though!" Chloe quickly clarified, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. "My roommate is very clean. I just don't let her near my car." Beca remained silent, fiddling with her seatbelt. "If you need me to pull over or anything, just let me know. Because of the chemo and stuff–" You're digging yourself a deeper hole here, Chlo. "–I know it can make some people feel a bit _ugh_ , so just say the word and I'll pull right over."

"Thanks," Beca grumbled. She was kind of having a terrible day and she didn't need her therapist's sympathy making it any worse.

"So…" Chloe whistled a happy ditty, tapping her steering wheel. "You don't have a car?" Her attempt at small talk was pathetic.

"I don't even have a license," Beca confessed softly.

"Why not?" Chloe asked, voice piqued with genuine curiosity.

Time to lay on the smarts! "It's fucking dangerous," Beca chuckled. "It's like the fifth leading cause of death." Thank you, Google. "But I guess I'm in the lead, huh?"

"Still," Chloe shot her a winning smile, "the bus?"

"Yeah, well, usually Jesse drives me." Beca almost vomited at the use of that bastard's name. "But we broke up. He cheated on me." Wow, that was getting surprisingly easier to say.

That's a mood killer if they ever knew one. She guessed that was the reason she'd been so closed off as of late. The redhead glanced over to her passenger a few times before finding her voice. "Oh," was all she managed to say. "Do you wanna," she coughed away the bubble forming in her throat, "maybe talk about it?" Always the therapist, even on off time.

"Can we not do therapy in the car, please?" Beca snapped. "You're just giving me a ride as a friend – that's it."

"Beca, if–"

"What we should _really_ talk about is all this crap you have on your floor." Beca kicked at a can, only to find that it still had some liquid left inside. She groaned – now she'd have a sticky trainer until they reach her home! Juuust great. "You have all this trash, and there's no reason for it." Chloe's lip quirked up slightly. "Don't you have a bag or something?"

However, Chloe wanted to talk about the other steaming pile of trash in her life. "Beca, your boyfriend cheated on you." She was about to expand on her point, but the look she received from the bald woman in her passenger seat told her that this really wasn't the best time. "We don't have to talk about it," she muttered, focusing her gaze back on the road ahead.

The dead air in the car was almost suffocating.

"I just recently broke up with someone myself," Chloe decided to say, hoping to gain at least some common ground with her. "So, I know what you're going through."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Beca said, sympathetically.

"It's actually good, because…" Now, how does she say this without coming off as a total creeper? If she said the wrong thing, or outed herself, Beca could very well tuck and roll. "Yeah, we shouldn't talk about it."

Okay, now Beca was curious. "Why not?" she asked.

"It's not appropriate for me to tell you personal things," Chloe rushed out. "The whole patient-therapist relationship doesn't work if you know my problems." The only problem that Beca could spot what this pigsty of a car. "Although I do stalk her Facebook every day to see if she's dating someone new, which, I know, is _so_ pathetic!"

Wait, did Beca hear that right? "Her?" she asked, brow curved in interest.

Great going, Beale! What was that about not outing yourself?

Chloe sucked in a breath of air. "Yup." Her crystal eyes darted to look at Beca, noticing the way she was staring at her. Intrigue, maybe? "That's not a problem, is it?"

"No, of course not!" Beca got out with haste, and a light chuckle. "I mean, I'd be a huge hypocrite if it was." Not saying anything, Chloe bit her lip, not wanting Beca to know how much she wanted to jump for joy at the confession. "You're right, though, that is pretty pathetic." Beca grinned a toothy, playful grin at her chauffeur.

Chloe opened her mouth in mock offence and gently shoved at Beca's arm, calling her a 'cheeky bitch'. The two women shared a jovial chortle.

"Ooh!" Chloe bounced in her seat slightly, taking Beca slightly by surprise [or a lot by surprise]. "Let's listen to the radio!" She reached over and flipped a switch on the dashboard.

Of course it had to be this song!

Beca was the one to begin singing. " _I'm bulletproof, nothin' to lose_."

Chloe quickly joined, both singing in a pitch perfect harmony. " _Fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim. Fire away, fire away. You shoot be down, but I won't fall. I am–_ "

"Wait," Beca interrupted, placing a hand on Chloe's thigh, Sia's voice still going strong. The redhead felt her leg burning at the touch. "Stop the car."

"Are you okay?" Chloe asked in a rush, Beca simply repeating her instruction. Without hesitation, Chloe pulled over swiftly. "Wait, what are you doing?"

Pushing open the door, Beca stepped out with a handful of trash. "I can't take this mess any longer."

"Beca, wait!" Chloe cried, quickly following Beca to a conveniently located dumpster. "That's my dinner," she said as she reached her. "That box is my dinner."

"You keep your dinner in a box?" Beca snorted.

"It's fresh!" the redhead protested, earning an arched eyebrow. "Pretty much fresh." She couldn't help but smile as Beca threw her head back, howling with laughter. "Hey, don't judge me, Mitchell!" she called over her shoulder as she headed back to her car.

"I'm not judging."

She was totally judging.

As Beca made her way back to her therapist's car, she spotted her clearing the crap that once occupied the top of her dashboard. Making eye contact, Chloe poked out her tongue childishly. "Check you out, Dr. Trash," Beca commented, sauntering over to pull at the back door's handle, only to have it not budge. "The door's locked!" she called out, like a teenager who had forgot the key to their house, shouting to try and gain whoever was inside's attention.

Chloe unlocked the door to the back seats, and she continues to tidy her car. The domesticity of it all… it was nice.

* * *

It took longer than expected to clean that goddamn car. So much so, that when Chloe had dropped Beca off back home, it was dark.

There was a _lot_ of trash to clear.

"Thanks for the ride," Beca said, unclipping her seatbelt.

"Thanks for cleaning my car," Chloe giggled.

The fell into an awkward silence, the rain battering against the rolled up windows. Beca gazed out at the door to her house. She was actually debating going inside, wanting to spend more time with Chloe.

Chloe was fun. Chloe was great. Chloe was really fucking adorable when she got spilt soda on her hand, squealing at how gross and 'icky' it felt.

"So, I'll see you next week." Beca fiddled with the handle to open the door.

"Sure." Chloe smiled – that same smile that always makes Beca mirror it. "Hey, are you gonna be okay by yourself?"

"Yeah, of course." Beca bobbed her head. "I'll be fine. I got a dog, so I'm not completely alone," she justified. "I'll see you soon, Chlo."

With one final smile, Beca pushed open the door and made a beeline for her front porch. Chloe opened her mouth to say something, but then stupidly remembered that her windows were rolled all the way up. So, she rolled them down.

"Beca!" she called, the petite woman turning on her heel and speed-walking back to her; she failed to hide her smile. What she didn't expect when she reached her was Chloe to be scribbling something down on an old takeout menu they'd forgotten to throw away [or maybe she just wanted to keep it]. "I want you to have my number," she said, offering the Chinese menu to her patient. "If you need anything, give me a call."

Subtle.

"Awesome, I pulled," Beca jested, sniggering at her own attempt at being funny.

Chloe's mouth hung open like a dead fish, heart lurching in her chest. "What?" she croaked out.

"Hey, it was just a joke," Beca reassured. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"That's fine," the reached breathed, looking everywhere but Beca.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that." Beca's face dropped. She hadn't meant to offend Chloe. Any girl would be lucky to score her digits. Beca should be flattered. Except she had to make a complete idiot of herself and create an incredibly awkward interaction between them.

Way to go, Beca.

"No, it's okay. It would just be inappropriate, is all," Chloe tried to iterate.

"I know that, yeah." Beca furthered her point by shooting her a thumbs up.

"I get that comedy is like, a defence mechanism, and that's totally fine." Chloe muttered something under her breath that Beca didn't quite catch. "That's for emergencies," she said, louder, "or if you just need to talk." Beca nodded her head, her eyes never leaving Chloe's. "Goodnight, Beca."

"Goodnight," she brunette repeated. "And thank you."

Chloe watched as Beca walked through her door and into her house. Finally alone, she let out a frustrated groan and ran her fingers through her ginger locks. "Fucking smooth, Beale," she grumbled, starting up her car again.

At least one good thing came out of their embarrassing little situation – Chloe gave Beca her number. She couldn't help the grin that formed on her face as the realisation smacked her across the face.

* * *

Chloe drove home that evening with the biggest smile she'd had for a while. She didn't even care that much that Beca almost threw away her dinner.

When she arrived at her apartment, she hadn't realised how dark it had actually gotten. Taking out her files and box, she locked her car and made her way to the elevator, and rode it in silence. Well, not completely silence – she hummed along to the music that she's heard countless times before.

Just as the redhead was about a shove a key into the lock, the door to her apartment swung open; a man walked out. She wasn't gonna lie, this guy was cuter than a red panda. But his brow was curved into a frown. He paused just before he crashed into Chloe, smiled kindly and power-walked in the direction of the lift.

That was weird.

Chloe entered her apartment to find her roommate sitting with her head in her hands at the kitchen island.

"Who shat on your toast?" Chloe asked, dumping her crap on the couch. All she gained in response was a groan as Aubrey smacked her head on the surface. "Who was the guy?" Opening up her box, Chloe licked her lips, mouth watering at the sight of her doughnuts. Just as Aubrey reached for one, glazed with chocolate frosting, Chloe smacked her hand away.

"Just a guy I've been seeing," Aubrey commented vaguely, rubbing her stinging hand. Chloe lifted a brow, bringing a doughnut her to her smirking lips. "Don't look at me like that!"

The redhead took a large bite. "Should I be worried?" she asked, her roommate snaring her lower lip between her teeth, looking everywhere but Chloe. "Aubrey," she warned.

The blonde's eyes snapped back to Chloe's. "He had a girlfriend," Aubrey blurted out.

Unfortunately, Chloe was part-way shovelling the pastry into her mouth; she ended up choking. "Aubrey!" she managed to splutter out. "He has a girlfriend?!"

" _Had!_ " Aubrey defended, patting the redhead on the back. "He _had_ a girlfriend! He just came over to tell me they broke up."

"You gonna keep seeing him?" Chloe questioned. "Y'know, now that you know he's cheating scum."

"I'm honestly not sure." Aubrey plucked the doughnut she'd had her eye on delicately between her forefinger and thumb. "To make matter worse, he told me she has cancer."

The world seemed to slow down for Chloe after that. Was Aubrey saying what she thought she was saying? There was only one way she could be certain.

"What's her name?" she whispered hoarsely.

"What?" her roommate asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What's her name, Aubrey!" Chloe snapped.

Not wanting to enrage the therapist further, Aubrey decided to play along. "I don't know, Becky or something."

Chloe's legs grew weak and she plopped down on one of the stools. It couldn't be true, could it? She couldn't hear Aubrey's concerned voice, asking if she was okay. All she could focus on was what she'd just been told – Aubrey, her best friend, had been sleeping with her favourite client's partner!

"How could you?" Chloe breathed, unable to look at the blonde after gathering her thoughts.

"I didn't know," Aubrey tried to reason guiltily. "If I did, I wouldn't have gone near him." She tried to rest a comforting hand on Chloe's shoulder, but she swatted it away, rising to her feet, furious.

"You still did it, Aubrey!" she barked, eyes glazing over with threatening tears.

Aubrey stood back a step, knowing exactly what the redhead was capable of when she was angry. "Why are you being so weird about this?" she asked calmly.

Chloe took a much needed breath. " _Beca_ is one of my patients," she got out without her voice cracking. It was Aubrey's turn to sit down. Damn, what a small world! But that still didn't explain why Chloe had gone all protective doctor on her ass. There was only one plausible explanation for her actions.

"You like her, don't you?" she asked suspiciously; Chloe fell quiet, staring down at her feet. "Chloe!" Aubrey raised her voice an octave to catch her roommate's attention.

Chloe shot her head up, crystal eyes burning into blue. "What if I do?" She knew she couldn't deny it any longer. Her feelings had been growing for a while now. She gave her her number, for Christ's sake [maybe if she kept telling herself that it really was for professional purposes, she'd believe it herself]! You could even say that she was falling _in love_ with the tiny brunette. "But _I_ ," Chloe jabbed a well-manicured thumb at herself, "didn't fuck her!"

Chloe wasn't one to swear – she had been brought up better than that. But when the time called for it, she would drop the eff-bomb like it was part of her every day vocabulary, which it most certainly is not.

"Why am I the bad guy here?" Aubrey asked, anger rising. "He's the one who cheated!"

"Would Beca see it that way?" Chloe challenged, crossing her arms under her breasts. Aubrey shut her mouth and, once again, avoided all possible contact with her best friend. "I can't even look at you," the redhead scoffed. Rolling her eyes, she spun on her heel, making a beeline for her bedroom.

Aubrey slammed her hand down on Chloe's shoulder and spun her back around. She was ready to yell and spit all sorts of profanities.

But the look on Chloe's face caused her to bite her tongue. Her eyes were glazed and slightly puffy, fresh tears staining her cheeks, and her bottom lip was jutted out, quivering.

The only time that Aubrey had seen her this upset was when she found out that One Direction had split.

So, Aubrey pulled Chloe into her arms in a loving embrace.

And Chloe cried. Big, wet, salty tears soaking the blonde's new – and needlessly expensive – sweater. The redhead mumbled an apology as she pulled away, uselessly wiping Aubrey's tear-stained shoulder with her sleeve.

"You have every right to be upset, Chlo," the tall blonde soothed, swiping her thumb under the therapist's left eye. "I know what I did was terrible, and I feel awful about it." She smiled coyly. "Like my father always says, 'if you find yourself in a bad position, get the crap outta there'."

"That's," Chloe croaked, "actually good advice."

But Aubrey wasn't finished. "'Or you're stuck in a perpetual cycle of self-loathing, soap operas and ice cream'." Yeah, that sounded more like General Posen.

"Ugh, now I want ice cream," Chloe whined.

"We can dip the doughnuts in it." Aubrey shot her a heartfelt wink and glided her way to where the freezer is located.

"You get me so well, Bree."

* * *

 **Not gonna lie, I kinda enjoyed writing this chapter. Took literally the whole day, but I think it turned out pretty neat. I'm sorry if it ended a little abruptly - I didn't know how to end it, so I just wrote what I was feeling. That feeling was hunger.**

 **That new fic I mentioned in the previous chapter is underway! But it'll most likely take a while. I want to make IaT a priority until it's finished.**

 **Anywhooo, I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Favourite/Follow/Review, or do whatever the hell you want. You do you, I'll do me, and we won't do each other. How does that sound?**

 **Catcha later and have a great day.  
Dilly xx**


	6. Getting High and Losing a Friend

**'nother chapter! Whoda thunk it? I'm pretty much gonna update this whenever the hell I want now. This part has been written for like a week now, but I was too lazy to edit it. Plus, there's this other thing I've been working on...**

 **Anyway, this chapter may, or may not, have a trigger warning. I dunno.**

 **Enjoy, you awesome nerds xx**

* * *

Getting high has never really been on Beca's bucket list. It was filled with crap like 'travel to Europe', 'climb Mount Everest' and 'beat this stupid cancer'. Now, getting baked with Amy on medicinal marijuana has become part of her daily routine.

Didn't help that they were watching some documentary about sharks; Beca was slightly freaking out.

"I thought the desert was crazy," Amy commented, taking a drag of her spliff, "but the ocean's fuckin' nuts."

"I like the trees," Beca mumbled. Amy wasn't sure if there were trees in the ocean or not, but then again, she wasn't even sure what day it was. "Holy shit!" Beca choked on the smoke that she was inhaling as she watched a great white spring from the water, snout up and teeth bared, taking what she could only assume was a large seal in its jaw.

Amy smacked her palm against her friend's back. "You okay?" she asked, Beca only able to nod her head a couple times, in the middle of a coughing fit. "Put your elbows above your ears," she instructed, demonstrating the action. "It helps you to stop coughing," she clarified when Beca gave her a questionable look.

"No way, dude, you look stupid," Beca said, finally able to breathe properly again.

Just as Amy was about to give some very insightful information [but most likely bullshit considering who we're talking about], there was a knock at the door, and a draft as it was opened.

Jesse.

Beca quickly reached for her beanie on the coffee table and put it on her head.

"I'm just here to pick up my stuff," Jesse said quietly at the blank stares of his ex-girlfriend and her best friend.

"All your crap is already in a box," Beca replied nonchalantly as she altered the hat so it fit snugly again her baldness. Nodding, Jesse began to make his way towards Beca's bedroom before she called out, "outside."

Amy snorted into her joint. "You walked right past it, you moron."

"Right," Jesse said slowly, twiddling with the hem of his jacket. "Then, I'll guess I'll be on my way." But he didn't budge – just stood there awkwardly, expecting to accepted back with open arms. When Beca didn't even so much as look in his direction, he decided to get a move on. That was until he took in a deep breath through his nose. "Are you smoking weed?" he asked incredulously.

"It's medicinal," Beca deadpanned, still not looking at him.

"You got a prescription for that stuff?" Jesse questioned, chuckling lightly, but Beca could tell he was worried.

Amy shook her head. "Nope – _I_ got a prescription for this stuff, Beca was too much of a pussy."

"Well, what the hell is wrong with you?" Jesse could write an essay on all the things that were wrong with Patricia 'Fat Amy' Hobart.

"I have night blindness," Amy responded with immediately, causing Beca to choke back a giggle. "My..." she trailed off, mind travelling back to all those years ago when she actually paid attention to things. "...retina is all fucked, and weed fixes it."

Jesse rolled his eyes – Amy could be such a fucking idiot sometimes. Even if that story was true [which it most certainly was not], why the shit was she smoking it during the _day?_ That's when Jesse's eyes landed on one of his paintings, left haphazardly leaning against the wall. "You took down my painting?" He almost sounded sad – served him right.

"It didn't really fit with the new TV." Beca shrugged her shoulders, keeping her eyes glued to the sharks on the screen. Damn, those fuckers were actually pretty terrifying!

"Beca, can I talk to you outside for a second?" Jesse asked, losing his patience with the small woman on the couch. When Beca finally had the decency to look at him, eyebrow raised, he added, "please?"

When Beca rose to her feet, wobbling slightly [she'd been sitting in that same spot since she'd woken up that day and had lost all feeling in her left leg], she made her way to her front door. Behind her back, Amy shot Jesse double middle fingers, the man returning the gesture.

"What do you want?" Beca asked when she shut the behind her. It was a cold day, as you would expect during winter. All of the plant life that surrounded her house were nude and a fresh layer of thin snow graced the ground below their feet.

"How are you feeling?" Jesse asked, striking up casual conversation, as if nothing had changed between them.

"Pretty freakin' awesome, actually," Beca informed.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry." Always cutting right to the chase. He glanced down at Beca's lips for a fraction of a second before looking back into her eyes.

Beca nodded her head. "Well, I'm sorry, too," she said softly. "I know this wasn't easy for you." She bit back another laugh. "And I'm sorry that my cancer is such an inconvenience to you. I would've gone to that gallery thing, but I kinda hate you so fucking much." She shot the tall man on her porch a toothy grin.

Jesse bobbed his head a few times. "I'm glad you didn't come – it was complete disaster." His eyes bored into Beca's. "No one bought any of my paintings," he whispered, as if he was revealing an embarrassing secret.

All Beca wanted to do was laugh in his face, tell him that no one bought them because they're so shit and he should quit painting and become a window cleaner. But she couldn't bring herself to be more of a bitch than she was already being. "But they're so good," was what she came up with instead.

"Really?" Jesse asked, his voice a hoarse murmur.

"Yeah," Beca lied, "they're great." Jesse gave her a smile – that same smile she fell in love with all those years ago. She had to avert her eyes before she did something she'd regret. "Better luck next time."

Then, Jesse hugged her. The tiny woman's muscles stiffened, and she swallowed deeply. She just wanted Jesse to get his stuff and leave her life forever! Why did he have to make things so complicated?

"I don't want to break up."

Goddammit, Jesse! How was Beca supposed to respond to that? The answer was to not to apparently, as Beca just stood there and let him say what he had to say.

"I can do better," he said, pulling away from Beca to hold her hands, almost on the verge of tears. "We can start over, and I'll do better." Before Beca could get a syllable in, Jesse captured her lips in his own.

What neither expected was for Beca to kiss him back.

"You should go," Beca managed to say into Jesse's lips.

"I wanna stay here," Jesse replied between kisses, "with you."

"Nope." Beca eventually shoved the man away from her. "It's me who can do better," she snarled. "Get the fuck off my porch."

She gestured to the box beside her, filled to the brim with Jesse's belongings: self-hygiene products, clothes, a backpack, a plethora of paintbrushes and paints... all of his shit that he'd left behind. He's lucky that Beca didn't throw any of it in a dumpster. Kneeling down, Jesse picked up his box and stormed back to his car.

"What about your painting?" Beca called to him.

"I made it for you," Jesse growled as he slammed his car door shut.

Well, if that's the case, there was only really one thing to do.

* * *

Beca and Amy stood in the brunette's back yard, glowering at the monstrosity that was Jesse's painting.

"You ready?" Amy asked, bouncing on the spot.

Beca's lips curved up into a grin as she launched an egg directly for the centre of the artwork. Both laughed all the while, each taking turns to throw products what one should probably be eating – eggs, tomatoes, tinned peaches.

Food wasn't the only thing they were throwing, however. Amy picked up a kitchen knife, displaying some rather risky and dangerous moves; Beca briefly wondered where the hell she learned to do that, but this is Amy – that chick is just full of mysteries she doesn't want to delve too deeply into. The Australian handed Beca the knife, and she immediately lobbed it at the painting, creating a neat slash across it.

The two friends high-fived before throwing multiple blades with varying thickness and shapes.

Before long, with many other tools of destruction, the painting was completely destroyed. Slashes and hacks everywhere. But there was only one left thing to do, according to Amy.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Beca asked, worried for the both of them.

"I've wrestled crocodiles and dingos simultaneously," was her only response.

Not believing a word she just said, Beca shrugged, throwing, flipping and catching the can of aerosol with one hand. Amy flicked the wheel on her lighter as Beca pressed down on the top of the can. The flame that erupted was beautiful as it tore its way through the canvas.

The two stood and watched the painting, holes burning and knives lodged into it, shrivelling up as the flames ate away. There was one thing they could agree on.

"It actually looks a lot better like this."

"We should hang this back up."

* * *

After her next chemo appointment, John was kind enough to invite Beca and her 'DUFF' [whatever that meant], over to his place. It shocked both Gail and Beca that he had offered, but when she mentioned her recent break up, Beca thought he was just being considerate in the best way he knew how.

And that was allowing the four of them to get high together.

"Where you guys around before TV?" Beca asked seriously after a few hours, earning a laugh from her friends. "Nah, seriously. You had the radio, right?" She slapped Amy's arm beside her. "We work in radio," she said proudly before leaning into her best friend, whispering loudly, "we do work in radio, right?" Amy nodded her head, too focused on getting blazed. "They talk about people just sittin' around, and actually listening to whatever bullshit they had to say."

"Glued to the radio," Gail joked, pulling at her earlobe.

"What did you listen to?" Beca was genuinely interested, and she'd be glad they weren't offended if they weren't all higher than Snoop Dogg.

" _Little Orphan Annie_ ," Gail responded with.

"Like the musical?" Beca asked.

But before she could get an answer, Amy blew smoke into her face. "What did you look at while listening to it?" she questioned. "Just, nothing?"

"Shit back then actually got your attention," John piped up. "Kids today are too focused on technology to actually pay attention." Beca hummed her agreement while flicking through the Twitter feed on her phone. "I rest my case."

"What do you for the radio?" Gail questioned as Amy plucked the device from Beca's clutches, proceeding to take a few selfies.

Groaning, Beca turned back to her elderly friends. "I'm doing this piece on a-cappella." At least she was actually listening.

"I do radio that people actually listen to," Amy snarked, handing her friend the phone back. "Food's always a great one – 'what's the best hamburger in Atlanta?' Shit like that."

"Yeah, but a-cappella is–"

Beca was cut short as Amy continued to run her mouth. "You would want to hear about food than something like 'coming up next, some chick talking about a dead form of music for half an hour'." She had to admit, Beca found that extremely hilarious.

"You know what I would do?" John said, lighting up another joint. "I'd turn on the TV."

"That'd be a very good idea," Amy said through her fits of laughter.

"But it's not the same," Beca whined, throwing her head back.

Gail eased her chuckles. "How is that not the same? You get audio _and_ video."

However, before Beca could explain how radio is nothing like television, a strange woman emerged from the house with four shot glasses in hand, placing each in front of her husband and his guests.

"I blended up some wheatgrass," she said with a cheerful demeanour, all four of them thanking her.

"Liquid lawn cuttings – my favourite," John jested, allowing his wife to sit on his lap and he necked the shot. Grimacing at the god-awful taste on his tongue, he almost forgot something important. "Jodie, this tiny runt is Beca," he introduced, gagging.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Beca said politely, ignoring the insult. Jodie offered her greeting with a chipper, 'hi, Beca', shaking the woman's hand. "And this is my friend, Amy." Beca gestured beside her as the Australian threw the green shot over her shoulder.

She looked around at the people in front of her, who all gave her varying expressions of shock and confusion. "What?" she asked innocently. "I ain't drinking that abomination!"

Beca ended up choking beside her. "You don't want to," she strangled out, placing her empty shot glass on the table in front of her.

"So, Beca," Jodie said, making polite conversation, "I'm surprised – the way John spoke about you, I assume you'd be older."

"She's eighty-five," Amy deadpanned. "She's just looks really good."

It took a while, but soon, all five of them were laughing.

"Okay, I gotta go," Jodie spoke up, standing on her own two feet. "Book club is starting soon, and I'm not even past the first chapter."

John scooped her up and swung her round to sit back on his lap. "Stay?" he asked sweetly. It was bizarre seeing him act like a gentleman, considering how he acted like a misogynistic dickhead most of the time. "I haven't seen you all day." He wasn't embarrassed when Jodie gave him a sweet kiss to the lips, and especially not when he whispered, "I love you."

Beca's smile dropped from her face. These guys were old – like, really old – and yet they were happy together. They'd been married for years, Beca assumed, and they were just... happy. They loved each other unconditionally and some stupid death sentence wasn't going to change that.

Beca envied that.

* * *

"Sheila, I can't talk about this anymore!" Beca whisper-yelled into her phone. "I'm at an appointment, okay? I'm already late."

She had just walked into Dr. Beale's office when _Agenda_ by Emma Blackery blasted into the room from her back pocket. She almost left it to ring when she saw Chloe's face light up, claiming that she loved the song. But if she didn't pick up, she'd never hear the end of it.

"Yes, Sheila," she groaned. "I am here, standing in the office, having valuable therapy time taken up by you, so I'm gonna hang up now." Beca glanced at Chloe, shooting her an apologetic gaze. "I don't even know what I'm gonna do in ten minutes, let alone what I'm gonna eat for dinner." She was getting frustrated now. " _Goodbye, Sheila_ ," she stressed before ringing off. Breathing out an exasperated sigh, Beca made her way to the couch in her therapist's office. "I'm sorry about that," she grumbled.

Chloe waved her hand nonchalantly. "No worries – I have parents, too."

"Do yours give you migraines?" Beca half-joked as she slumped back into the sofa.

"I'd talk to my therapist about my parents," Chloe shot back with a cocky grin.

"Is that so?"

Chloe nodded with a hum of agreement. "We could role play," she suggested. To say that Beca was taken aback would be an understatement, but Chloe didn't seem to notice that what she'd just said sounded highly sexual. "I could be your mom, or Sheila, or whoever."

"No offence, but that sounds fucking disgusting," Beca answered with a grimace.

"Offence taken!" Chloe mocked shock. "How is that disgusting?"

Biting her lower lip, Beca glanced off to the side. "How do I put this?" she mused quietly. "Sheila is crazy," she settled with. "She worries all day, every day." Chloe leaned forward slightly, glad that they were talking about something other than their usual conversations about her friends, job and of course, her cancer. "It just gets on my tits, yanno? I mean, I can't talk to her, and I don't call her back." Beca bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from rambling. "It's a problem."

It took a few seconds for Chloe to find the right words. "So, she's got a husband who can't talk to her, and a step-daughter who won't?"

That hit the nail on the head! Beca remained silent, contemplating what the redhead had told her, before finding her voice again.

"Yeah, I guess," she said weakly.

"Makes you kind of a dick," Chloe said offhandedly.

Beca pointed to herself with a short laugh. "Me?" Chloe simply nodded her head once. "Is that like, the medical term?"

Chloe let a light giggle escape her lips. "You can't change who your parents are," she informed. "The only thing you can change is how you choose to deal with that." There was another pause as Beca considered this.

"Aren't you supposed to like, manipulate me into figuring this shit out?" she asked. "Not just call me out on it?"

"Yeah, you cleaned my car," Chloe retorted. "We're way past that."

She couldn't deny with that logic. Taking the opportunity, Chloe placed a soothing hand on Beca's forearm, giving it a light rub. The smaller woman just looked at her with an unreadable smile.

"It's still weird, isn't it?" Chloe winced at her own idiocy, retracting her hand. "Shouldn't have gone for it."

"No, it was good," Beca reassured.

"It was too forced," the redhead almost whinged. "I'm sorry."

Beca got herself more comfortable on the couch, moving closer to her therapist. "Try again," she ordered. "I was too far away; give it another shot." Giving her a coy smile, Chloe gently placed her hand back onto Beca's arm with much more ease.

Not moving an inch, the two women just smiled at each other, cobalt lost in crystal, and vice versa.

"Better," Beca said gently.

* * *

When Beca walked into chemo a couple days later, something was off. Gail sat there alone, frown replacing her almost permanent grin. There was no greeting of 'hey, kid', nor any offering of drug-laced brownies like last time. She just sat there, blankly staring ahead at nothing.

Beca thanked the nurse who securely injected the IV drip into her arm before finally turning to the blonde woman beside her.

"Where's John?" Beca asked her.

She immediately regretted it.

"He died last night," came the monotonous reply.

Beca was shocked stiff. Her heart leaped in her chest, then plummeted to her feet. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to process this heart-wrenching information.

"We were just with him; he was fine," she managed to breathe out. "What happened?"

"Does it matter?" Gail responded bitterly. "His heart stopped."

Beca clenched her jaw, trying her goddamn hardest not to cry. But it was no use. Lower lip quivering, she allowed a single tear to slip from her eye.

They buried him a week later.

Beca couldn't bring herself to cry as she watched the casket lower into the ground; she clung to Amy's hand during the entire ordeal, willing herself not to croak out a sob.

* * *

Beca spent the next month cooped up in her home, smoking her marijuana alone and watching TV with her dog. She refused to go to her therapy sessions, to pick her phone when it rang, to answer the door when Amy came knocking...

She just wanted to be alone.

Flipping the channel from a lame news report, she found her watching some shit about a volcano she never heard of. Why? She didn't know, and she didn't care. But what they were saying was mighty interesting.

Apparently, said volcano [she wasn't even going to try to pronounce the name], had erupted in the early hours of the morning. The explosion was huge, the smoke emitting from it going on for miles.

The volcano was getting weaker, the reporter said. Beca could only assume that it was actually growing stronger, as the live footage she was watching showed lava spewing from it.

Weak... but yet strong.

Bunch of bullshit!

* * *

 **UUGH, SO DEPRESSING! I'm sorry! But I'm kinda not. But I am sorry if this chapter is a little too short, and/or totally shit. Haven't really been a writing mood as of late. Next chapter should hopefully, maybe, quite possibly be better! Keep an eye out for it.**

 **Catcha later and have a great day.  
Dilly xx**


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